


New rules

by LostInTranslation (theonemaye)



Series: [Permanent Hiatus] [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aliens are not a thing, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coffee Shops, Except for pidge, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hurt/Comfort of sorts, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Langst, M/M, Paladins in their twenties, References to Drugs, Shiro is dreamy, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 12:17:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12748143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonemaye/pseuds/LostInTranslation
Summary: So many times before, Lance has fallen into his ex-boyfriend’s charm. Something definitely needs to change. If that something has anything to do with a certain handsome stranger, that’s totally up to fate and probability.—In which Lance tries to get out of a toxic relationship, Shiro is determined, and Lotor is a certified a-hole. Getting out of certain situations is often easier said than done. Lance is about to find out, with a bit of help from his friends, and lots of self-discovery/self-growth.Update Nov. 2018:Please read the series description.





	1. Don't pick up the phone

**Author's Note:**

> This silly little idea started as a joke between my best friend and me. I listened to Dua Lipa’s New Rules and thought about Lance and Lotor; then Shiro entered the equation for some unknown reason. Next thing you know, I was writing chapter one. So yeah, I have zero restraint and I just wanted to write something involving that song. I welcome thee to my self-indulgent madness of a story.

Ever since Lotor phoned him at stupid hours in the goddamn night, Lance knew he most definitely _should_ _not_ pick up the phone. The fact that Lance did spoke volumes about his sense of self-preservation.

So many times had this same scenario happened to him: late at night, drunken talk, some “Darling, I miss you”, some other “I need to see you”, and then a topping of “Please, let me pick you up in five”. What happened after Lotor picked Lance up in front of the boy’s shared apartment wasn’t too difficult to guess.

 _Sex_.

Rough, drunk, messy, and unbelievably _hot_ sex in every available surface of Lotor’s penthouse. Being a spoiled brat had its benefits and Lotor’s came in the form of a big ass apartment the man didn’t have to share with any living soul.

He shared it, though. More often than Lance wanted to think about.

Strictly speaking, Lotor wasn’t Lance’s ex. Simply because, for someone to be somebody else’s ex, there had to be a relationship to begin with.

Lance and Lotor? Well… they never got that far.

“Oh, yes! Oh, darling, you sure know how to move those hips to please me,” Lotor kept babbling from some place behind Lance. Reverse cowgirl wasn’t the most romantic way to fuck, but it happened to be the one Lotor loved the most when he was wasted. And Lance was always such an obliging little fella. “Keep moving just like that. Taking my cock like that. Oh, fuck! How I’ve missed you.”

Lance’s heart skipped a beat at Lotor's words, much to his dislike. It was infuriating the way such a simple sentence could have such a big effect on him.  Given Lance didn’t even buy the lie anymore, one would have thought his body could take the hint as well.

Lance ignored the unpleasantness in his chest and kept moving anyway, chasing an orgasm soon pooling at the base of his balls. Lotor had a firm grip of Lance’s hips, bruisingly enough as to ensure Lance’s tanned skin would stay fingerprinted for at least a day or two. He knew he would probably hate himself and the bruises in the morning. Then again, not coming would do anything at all to ease his impending pity parade. So his self-esteem be damned! He would orgasm first and ask questions later.

“Fuck, darling, keep it up, I’m almost there!” Lotor said, and to be honest Lance would have preferred him to be quiet. His voice was rich as melted chocolate, but right now it only served to remind Lance of two things: the man he was with and just how messed up things were for him.

Lotor wasn’t lying, though; he was close to his orgasm. Lance knew him enough as to tell. Which only meant Lance would have to be quick about it if he wanted to get off; Lotor wasn’t one to be considerate after he’d come, after all.

Lance fisted his own dick in his hand, moving in sync with his hips to create a rhythm. Lotor’s cock was big enough as to touch Lance’s prostate in every thrust but his owner was currently so wasted he’d probably miss it even if it was the size of Lance’s whole butt. Fortunately, Lance had enough dexterity in seeking his own enjoyment.

He moved just so and rounded his hips just so and _fucking there!_ That was the right angle. Lance moved up and down Lotor’s dick, brushing his prostate every time and pumping his own erection at a frantic pace. Just a couple more seconds of it and he was coming, coming, _coming_ so hard and delicious, feeling his insides spasm around Lotor and triggering the other man's climax.

Lance collapsed to his side after a few seconds, taking Lotor’s softening cock out of his ass in the process. Lance’s eyes were closed and all he could hear was his own ragged breathing pattern, accompanied by a voice inside his head telling him to gather his strength and leave as soon as possible. He chose to ignore the voice and rolled over the bed to face the ceiling.

He was exhausted, for the sex and for the messed up situation around it. Here he was again: asshole loose, hips bruised and dignity nowhere to be found. Lotor was pretty much passed out beside him, high on alcohol and only God knew what else. And honestly, all Lance wanted to do was to sleep for a little while. He’d deal with the guilt in the morning.

He always dealt with the guilt in the morning.

“Say Lotor,” Lance ventured, feeling apprehension gnawing at his gut. “Can I crash here? I’m tired and kinda broke for an uber. Unless you’re up for a last ride to mine’s?”

Lance waited. One… Two... The third second was accompanied by the unmistakable sound of drunk snoring. Lotor had indeed passed out after coming, the asshole!

Lance rolled to his side again and opened his eyes. Lotor’s lean frame was silhouetted against the dim light showering the room from the panoramic window. The big city was displayed way beyond Lance’s view, but he’d been here enough to know exactly how did it look like.

Lance moved closer to Lotor, close enough to see him sleep. The man’s chest rose and fell in an even manner, one hand over his stomach and the other above his head. His signature curtain of platinum-almost-white hair laid in a disheveled array over the covers. Lance stretched out a hand to set aside a rogue lock from Lotor’s face, caressing one of his cheekbones with a gentle touch.

“If only you weren’t intoxicated all the time,” Lance whispered, feeling helpless, “then maybe things could be like they used to _._ ”

Lotor shifted in his sleep, unaware of everything Lance said and perhaps unaware of Lance himself.  Lance cuddled onto Lotor’s side, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of tobacco and expensive cologne so characteristic of the man near him. If only things between them hadn’t changed. If only Lance had been enough.

Lance had it bad. He had it _too bad_.

 

 

All Lance wanted was to sneak into his room and sleep the guilt away. But what did he get instead? A brand new guilt-trip shaped in the form of one of his roommates.

Pidge was waiting for him just outside his bedroom, hands on her hips and looking like a crazy person on a mission. The mission? Stopping Lance from getting the rest he so yearned.

Lance looked at his room’s door and noticed the knob was jammed by some sort of device. Even in the hypothetical case he'd manage to tackle Pidge’s tiny body to the ground, getting to his room was not going to be a simple task.

“Do you _know_ what time is it?” She asked, rather harshly.

Lance closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He just wanted to sleep. He _needed_ to sleep. It was early in the fucking morning, and he had just left Lotor’s apartment in a rush, not wanting to be there when the man finally rose from the grave. Kicking himself out was less of a punch in the stomach than being kicked out.

“It’s barely six-thirty,” Pidge went on, in light of Lance's silence. “Six thirty in the morning, Lance!”

“Dude, I know how clocks work,” Lance said, looking at her again. His friend ignored him completely.

“Last time I saw you it was almost midnight and you were already in your PJs. What the hell, man?”

Pidge’s look was fierce, and Lance averted his gaze under it. He felt his soul being drilled by it, more so because _he knew_ what he did was reproachable. And honestly? He didn’t need one of his best friends to remind him how hopeless he was.

“I just went out for a bit, okay?” He said bluntly, tiredness giving way to annoyance. “Can I get to my room now?”

“ _Please_ just tell me you didn’t spend the night with that Daibazaal jerk again?” She said. Lance felt another pang of guiltiness pierce through him.

“You want me to lie to you?” He asked in return, glaring directly at Pidge, a taste of bitterness in his words. She was supposed to be the smartest one. She _should_ know better than this. “‘Cause I can lie alright, or you can just lemme get to my goddamned room!” He nearly shouted.

Pidge held his gaze for a couple of seconds before closing her eyes, letting out a loud sigh. Her shoulders slumped a little and when she opened her eyes again, there wasn’t a hell burning inside them.

“At least tell me he gave you a ride,” she offered, tilting her head slightly to the side and searching for Lance’s eyes. Lance didn’t have the strength to lie to her at the moment, so he shook his head once. Pidge’s eyes fired up again. “Are you kidding me? That _asshole_!”

“Let the guy get to his own bed already,” Keith said from the kitchen table, a few feet behind them. He was having cereal for breakfast and Lance absently wondered why he didn’t notice the guy’s presence before. “Save the lecture for the ‘Sharing Tuesday’ dinner.”

“Stay out of this, Kogane,” Pidge warned him. “You still owe me twenty bucks from a week ago’s ‘Blackjack Friday’.”

“And I said I’d pay you as soon as the scholarship’s money hits my bank account,” Keith explained, not even a bit faced by the little one’s scowl. “It’s been a slow month for tips.”

“Then pay me in loyalty,” Pidge suggested, gesturing to Lance’s general direction. “Back me up here!”

“No can do, sorry,” Keith refused. “Lance’s an adult and you need to stop messing with other people’s stuff. You jammed his door? Dude, that’s creepy.”

Pidge rolled his eyes at Keith so hard she ended up moving all of her body.

“I just don’t get it!” She grumbled, turning her attention back to Lance. “The guy’s an ugly pompous dickhead. So _why_ do you keep seeing him?”

“Actually, he’s very hot,” Keith added from afar. “In that sort of _dangerous_ kinda way low self-esteem buddies like our roommate here really dig, y’know.”

Lance glared at Keith's comment and the other guy just smiled back.

“All I see is trash rolled up tightly inside a fancy façade if I’m completely honest,” Pidge said, her eyes on Keith again.

“Well, see, that’s your ace ass talking,” Keith stated. “The dude’s rich, charismatic, and stupidly handsome. On top of that, he moves around in that black Lamborghini that’s more expensive than this apartment complex. Even _you_ gotta admit a guy like that is bound to be hot.”

“Well, see, that’s your gay ass talking,” Pidge retorted. “The man can be all the good-looking and money-packed he wants, but he’s still garbage and that’s not gonna change for me.”

Keith shrugged at that, stuffing his mouth with a spoonful of cereal as to concede the point to Pidge.

The girl turned her attention back to Lance, who had watched the whole interchange without saying a word. He was so tired and needed his bed so badly. Though he probably needed a shower more than he needed a bed. Lotor’s penthouse wasn’t particularly short on the bathrooms department but Lance didn’t dare stepping into one of them again. Not after finding what he’d found roughly two months before: a discarded condom filled with fresh come that was most definitely not used on - or by - him.

Lance took one last tired look at Pidge before turning in the bathroom's direction. The girl immediately cut him off, causing Lance to growl in exasperation.

“And where do you think you’re going, mister?” She asked, in a tone not all too different from a mom scolding her little kid.

“To take a shower,” Lance replied, scowling at her. “Or am I banned from the bathroom too?”

Something in his posture or his voice might have given away just how extremely worn-out he was because Pidge’s stubbornness visibly faded away after he spoke. She held Lance’s gaze for a heartbeat and nodded once before getting out of the way.

Lance got into the shower and set the stream as hot as his skin could take. He wanted to feel the sting of heat washing away the feelings, the thoughts, the ever-present guilt after spending a night with Lotor.

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew his friends were right about the man. Lotor might not be the worst person in the world, but he was no angel. More so after his dad’s accident and way more than that with everything Lance related.

The two of them had a great time together after meeting in a nightclub, he used to be nice to Lance and the sexcapades were dreamy. But all that went to shit after mister Daibazaal’s plane crashed. From that moment on, Lotor entrenched in lots of alcohol, recreational drugs, and every addiction one could think of.

If there was something certain for Lance it was the fact he was yet another outlet for Lotor to forget his personal train wreck. And at first, he did it willingly, smitten as he was with the Galra Tech Company’s heir. However, everything has an unavoidable turning point, Lance’s being the moment he found the discarded condom in Lotor’s personal bathroom.

He realized then and there drugs and buzz weren’t the only things Lotor was using to cope with his father’s coma. Lance’s naivety led him to believe Lotor wasn’t having sex with other people. He thought he was the only one watching over the sleep of the man he had fallen for at some point. But the truth was another and Lance got a reality check so hard it felt like a blow to his guts.

Yet nearly two months after that, Lance still wasn’t able to not pick up Lotor’s damn midnight booty calls. Even when his friends begged him to stop. Even when he got himself kicked out by Lotor’s relentless indifference every morning after. Even then, Lance couldn’t stop. He just wasn’t strong enough.

Lance got out of the shower and wrapped himself tight in a towel before coming out of the bathroom. His friends were nowhere to be seen but Lance couldn’t say it was a bad thing. He walked to his room, his dirty clothes in one hand, and realized with a sigh of relief that his door wasn’t jammed anymore. Maybe Keith’s comment about how Pidge had to mind her own business had been effective after all.

Lance couldn’t help the unpleasantness swirling inside his chest once his eyes fell on the utter mess of clothes over his bed. He did that the night before while looking for something pretty to wear. Not that Lotor even noticed, preoccupied as he was on taking Lance’s pants off his legs as soon as they got inside his personal lift.

A sigh left his throat and he shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He put his dirty clothes in the laundry basket and grabbed a pair of boxer briefs from the drawer, put them on and placed the discarded outfits over a nearby chair, to deal with later. His window’s curtains were thick enough to keep the morning sun away from his tired eyes, so when Lance got under the covers all it took was a few seconds for him to surrender to his exhaustion.

 

 

Lance woke up with a jolt.

All he could see was the blurry white of his blanket wrapping him as tightly as a giant burrito. He tried to get rid of the sheet over his face but was immediately struck by sharp pain near the base of his spine, unable to move without a fair amount of unintentional whimpering.

Lance’s body hurt all over. His bum and thighs were sore, his neck felt stiff, and his head was pounding. He really wasn’t getting any younger, was he? Either that or the guilt was now manifesting as psychosomatic pain. Be as it may, the point was Lance really, truly, deeply felt like shit in every possible aspect. Even more so as his - now awake - brain obligingly filled the gaps in his memory.

 _Midnight booty call. Lamborghini ride. Pinned against one of the lift’s wall. Undressed in the dark. Fucked with barely any preparation. Not a word after it_.

Lance whined, shifting on the bed in an attempt to catch some more sleep. Which proved to be a lost cause the moment his stomach made a loud, growl-like sound. Undoubtedly, it was meant to remind him just how many hours had passed since his last meal. That was, when exactly? Last night? He didn’t grab breakfast upon arriving home and most definitely didn’t eat anything at Lotor’s. So yeah, it was probably in his health’s best interest to pull himself together long enough to put some food into his system.

When Lance sat up, he complained again, a bit louder this time, still feeling the texture of the blanket against the skin of his cheek. Crankiness was washing over the initial dizziness, due to the pain, hunger, and the fact he managed to sleep way past noon. No wonder his belly claimed for sustenance.

After a few more moments of getting his body in check, Lance finally stepped out of the bed. The first couple of footsteps gave away a sharp pain near Lance’s hipbones. The sight of Lotor pressing that same spot with strong fingers flooded his head, making him cringe at the memory. Worst of all, Lance was fairly certain some finger-shaped bruises were barely the top of the iceberg regarding last night’s marks on his skin. For such an indifferent bastard, Lotor did have a tendency to mark up Lance as if to display his ownership.

Since Lance didn’t want to deal with the undeniable signs of his night out - not yet, at least - he decided against putting on clothes. He’d take a look at his wrecked body _after_ grabbing some leftovers from the fridge and stuffing them down his throat. The mere thought of facing the markings right now made him somewhat sick to his stomach.

So he wrapped himself better in the blanket, minding the hems just enough to avoid any ungraceful tripping over the kitchen’s floor. He thought about making a knot with it in front of his neck, but it seemed excessive. One thing was looking like shit but, shitty _and_ ridiculous? No thanks.

Lance padded his way from his bedroom to the kitchen area, barely lifting his head in the process. From the corner of his eye, he saw a big, blurry shape sitting on the couch, but quickly dismissed it as Hunk now being back from his girlfriend’s apartment and watching some TV or whatever. The truth was Lance didn’t want to engage in any form of human communication, and as long as the Hunk-shaped from didn’t notice his presence, he’d be okay.

He opened the refrigerator’s door and proceeded to scavenge for any leftovers he could get his hands on. He saw stiff pizza slices and half a Chinese takeaway still sitting inside its cardboard box. They were both prominent contestants in the race for his empty stomach, to be honest. But just before Lance reached out a hand to take the pizza, his eyes caught a glimpse of heavenly glory, in the form of a rather robust plastic container stuffed full with Hunk’s legendary lasagna.

The group had lasagna the other night because Hunk wanted so badly to impress his new girlfriend that he cooked his most famous meal in industrial quantities. The fairly decent portion in front of him was barely a quarter of that day’s leftovers, and Lance was certain nobody would be pissed at him if he was to eat it all. Which, of course, he already was planning to do.

He smiled mischievously to himself, already savoring Hunk’s lasagna inside his mouth. He took the container in one hand and restarted his scavenging in the hopes to find some spare dessert to accompany his cold meal. He was so focused on the task at hand that he failed to notice the moment the Hunk-like bulge left the couch and approached him, sporting an amused smile.

“I really hope you’re planning to heat that up, buddy.”

“Mother of _fuck_!” Lance cursed with a jolt, unable to recognize the voice that had just startled him. The voice sounded so close that Lance’s still dizzy brain set up into survival mode, doing everything in its power to get away from the possible source of danger.

He tried to backtrack from the refrigerator, only to trip on his silly bedsheet in the process. Lance felt his whole body helplessly fall backward - the plastic container launched to the air by his fall’s momentum. He closed his eyes shut and braced himself for the imminent impact to his back… which actually never came.

One or two seconds passed by without Lance being fully aware of what had just happened, the third second coming with the realization that he was actually being held midair by a rather strong and solid _someone_.

“Hello there, blue eyes,” the stranger said to Lance when the boy looked up at him and, dear _god_ , was that a sight for sore eyes.

The man above him was gorgeous, or at least there was no other adjective Lance’s putty brain could come up with at the moment. His hair was cut in a rather stern way, though a long, white strand of hair stood out like a light in the dark, cascading from somewhere over the top and almost covering one of his eyes. The hairstyle gave way to chiseled features and a square jaw, framing a pair of sharp hazel eyes that kept looking down at Lance with the wink of a smile.

“Are you alright?” The man asked, motioning his other - apparently gloved - hand so Lance could see the lasagna container being gripped firmly by it. “You almost dropped your food.”

“I-”

For some reason, Lance found himself at a loss of words. He tried to form a coherent reply - to not look like an idiot - but before he succeeded, a very familiar voice echoed in the kitchen.

“Well _that_ ’s not super compromising at all,” Keith said, just a few steps away from them, and Lance took that as a cue to get off the man’s embrace.

He fumbled with the bedsheet and his awkward limbs long enough to give away his intentions. The stranger took the hint and released him, helping Lance get up and taking a couple of steps back once he found his balance.

“Guess there’s no need for an introduction now, is it?” Keith teased a moment later. Lance wasn’t sure if it was directed to him or to Mister White Lock to his left.

Lance risked a peep to the guy and _holy_ _Macarena_ was he a big one! He could easily be taller than Hunk, although not precisely robust but actually… beefy? Yeah, ‘beefy’ was another good word to describe the stranger. He also didn’t seem willing to take his eyes off Lance, even when he obviously was there for Keith. It was making Lance uncomfortable, to tell the truth. He cleared his throat and pointedly looked at Keith.

“Friend of yours?” Lance asked, wrapping himself better in his sheet and trying not to peek at the big guy. Keith cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Thought you’d know since you two seemed so cozy.”

“That was actually my fault,” The man interjected, finally looking at Keith. “I startled him and made him trip on the blanket. Then somehow caught him mid-fall.”

“Mmhmm…” Keith said, throwing at his friend the same skeptical look he shot at Lance moments before. “ _Anyway_ … Lance, this is Shiro. Shiro, this is Lance,” Keith said, gesturing at each of them with his hands. “Lance is one of my roommates, obviously. And Shiro is a childhood friend of mine who was supposed to wait for me in the living room.” The implication was clear and sound in Keith’s words; the Shiro guy cleared his throat. “There! Now everyone knows everyone. Can we go now? We’re gonna miss the movie.”

Keith was talking to his friend, who seemed really caught off guard, in Lance’s opinion.

“Right! The movie. Of course,” Shiro said, tagging along Keith as he walked to the apartment's door.

The man had barely taken two steps in that direction when he stopped in his tracks and turned around to face Lance once again. He held the gloved hand to the boy, presenting the plastic container with Hunk’s lasagna in it.

“Pleasure to meet you, Lance,” he said, a charming smile across his features. “Make sure you do heat it up, okay?” Shiro winked at him after that and Lance all but snatched the container from his hand, unable to believe his luck.

He was being hit on in his own kitchen, after spending a night with his ex and wearing a blanket as a robe. Truth be told, Shiro seemed dreamy bordering in perfect. In any other circumstances, Lance would be thrilled about a man like _that_ giving him the look so unabashedly. However, Lance’s current state of mind was all due to another dreamy man, and right now, he didn’t want to deal with anything dreamy related.

So yeah, Shiro’s perfectness happened to raise all the wrong flags inside Lance’s brain, even though there was no tangible proof the big guy was comparable to Lotor in any way. Call it delayed self-preservation, if you want. God only knows how much Lance needed it.

“Shiro, let’s go!” Keith barked from the door, making the man turn away at last.

The pair got out of the apartment a moment later, leaving a fairly confused Lance in the middle of the kitchen. What the _hell_ was that about?

Lance looked at the food container in his hand, suddenly remembering what was he doing in the kitchen in the first place. He turned around and closed the refrigerator’s door, got himself a fork, a glass of water, and made a beeline for his bedroom. Whether or not Lance was thinking of the gorgeous not-so-stranger, well… that was something else entirely.

 

 

Sometime after Lance finished his lasagna, he decided his mind was fit enough to handle a proper status report. He locked his door and stood in front of the large full-body mirror placed in the farthest corner of his room.

As the blanket fell to the floor, Lance flinched at his own reflection, taking a deep breath before starting to assess the damage. A large purple hickey colored the skin between Lance’s neck and shoulder, while two little ones sat in each of Lance’s clavicles. Various biting marks decorated his torso and back, one of them large enough Lance wasn’t sure why was it painless at all. His legs weren’t untouched, although the mild fuzz on them made the markings less visible; Lotor had a nasty habit of scratching Lance’s thighs and calves while stretching him open before sex, and even if last night’s preparation wasn’t what you'd call neat, the bastard still managed to scrape Lance’s skin.

Lance stepped out of his boxer briefs and let out a shaky sigh. As he feared, the skin of his hipbones was covered in fingerprint-like bruises the exact shape and size of Lotor’s hands. Now _those_ were painful, and even though Lance knew they would fade away by the end of the weekend, seeing them mark his skin wasn’t doing any favors to his already fucked up mood.

“At least our arms are fine?” He said to his reflection, trying to see the bright side of things. “It means we don’t have to wear long sleeves to work in the middle of the summer!”

He gave a tentative smile to his mirror-alter-ego, not buying it in the sightless but trying his best to at least pretend it wasn’t as fake as it felt.

Lance put on his boxer briefs again, along with some pajama bottoms and a rather old t-shirt. He needed to be comfy right now and no matter how many times Pidge and Keith teased him about it, his _GoLion_ tee from his otaku teen phase was the comfiest of them all.

He stared at the mess of his room - after having almost taken out all his wardrobe the night before - and decided this was as good a time as any to begin tidying it up. He could use a distraction either way and given the rather busy week ahead of him, picking up his room while he still had an ounce of strength inside him seemed like the right thing to do.

As expected, moving inside his room to make it decent got Lance’s mind away from his pathetic love life and everything Lotor related. The fact his brain was replaying one of the last songs he heard on the radio - back when he and Pidge were studying for their upcoming calculus quiz - was actually helpful.

It was a silly break-up song, Lance remembered, but he couldn’t for the life of him recall any of the verses. Therefore, and to get it out of his head, Lance took out his phone and searched. Upon finding it, he set the phone on the bed and pressed ‘play’ just before turning his back on the device.

A somewhat tropical beat filled the air as Lance kept on putting his clothes back to the closet, the rhythm having Lance swaying his hips in no time. He barely registered the lyrics while he danced, not until the smooth voice delivered some particular line that caught his attention.

_My love, he makes me feel like nobody else…_

Lotor’s face immediately crossed Lance’s mind, making his heart ache given the recent - and not so recent - events. A string of images followed the first, every one of them a happy memory from the time Lance and Lotor were definitely an item. Beach days, dinner dates, club evenings, and sexy nights; every moment of their relationship before the plane crash, all of them stacked between one line of the song and the other.

_But my love, he doesn't love me, so I tell myself…_

Now was the turn for the ugly images to cross his mind. The yelling, the ghosting, the countless amount of times Lotor ditched him on a date just to call him days later, in the middle of the night, and always intoxicated. The discarded condom and the downward spiral upon finding it should have been enough for Lance to stop seeing the man. But he just couldn’t help himself. No matter how hard he tried, he never gathered enough nerve as to see Lotor calling him and simply not-

_One: Don't pick up the phone. You know he's only callin' 'cause he's drunk and alone._

Wait. What the heck was that? Did a silly summer song just _respond_ to his train of thought?

_Two: Don't let him in. You'll have to kick him out again._

Lance stopped what he was doing and turned to face the phone on his bed, the ‘putting away clothes’ enterprise already half-forgotten.

_Three: Don't be his friend. You know you're gonna wake up in his bed in the morning._

Okay, this was officially getting creepier by the second. He took the phone in his hand and stared at the screen, noticing for the first time the actual name of the song.

_And if you're under him, you ain't gettin' over him. I got new rules, I count 'em…_

New rules.

The stupid catchy song that got stuck in his brain since the night before was actually giving him advice on how to end things up with his Lotor. “Don’t pick up the goddamn phone” being the very first of them. Was it dumb for Lance to admit he was kinda considering it? Say, it wasn’t like he had a better idea at hand, and having tried everything, Lance was ready to attempt whatever crazy shit might help his case.

Lance sat on the bed while the melody kept on playing on his phone, the chorus reminding him over and over how much he needed these ‘new rules’ the gods presented to him in the form of some young woman’s summer single.

He stared into space, mouth agape as some other lines from the lyrics clicked inside his astounded brain. Things like Lotor always backing away from him, Lance finally recognizing the man had a modus operandi, and the very palpable fact that Lotor didn’t care about Lance whatsoever struck him like lightning. He had to start using these new rules right away. _He needed it_. But how could he?

_Practice makes perfect, I'm still tryna learn it by heart._

Lance flinched visibly. Of course the magical song was giving him the answers he required.

_Eat, sleep, and breathe it. Rehearse and repeat it…_

So, that was it? Just repeating the rules in his head and trying to do the same in his life? It wasn't all that different from what Lance kept telling himself he’d do next time. Only next time never seemed to come, as every single time Lotor summoned him, Lance was there to reply.

Then again, Lance didn’t have a specific set of rules before. He just knew Lotor wasn't good for him or his life, but he’d put little thought into the details. Why does he call in the middle of the night? _‘Cause he’s drunk and alone_. What if he wants to stop by in his car? _You’ll have to kick him out_. What if he wants to talk when he’s not high as a kite? _You’re gonna wake up in his bed in the morning_.

“And what if I miss him so much that I end up giving in?” Lance whispered to the empty room.

Something too much like his own voice - although more confident - resounded inside his head. “ _Then you ain’t getting’ over him, sweetie_ ,” it said, loud and clear, just like the lyrics still emanating from his phone.

A knock on his door brought Lance back to reality. He blinked at his phone twice before turning the volume down to a much normal one. Nevertheless, he didn’t move to the door nor did he say a word. He still was a bit perplexed to do anything beyond breathing.

“Lance, can I come in?” Hunk’s voice said, muffled by the door. “I know you’re in there, dude. Pop music gives you away.”

Lance snickered at that, unable to stop himself. Hunk always knew how to bring him back to earth, no wonders they became best friends on the very first day of college.

“Come in already,” Lance replied and saw Hunk stick his head inside the room.

“You decent? A little bird told me you were in full toga mode this afternoon,” he teased, grinning as Lance rolled his eyes. Next time he saw Keith, Lance was going to kill him.

Hunk didn’t wait for an answer. He opened the door and entered Lance’s room like so many times in the past, as if it was his own. Then Hunk closed the door behind him and took a seat beside Lance.

“Oh, man, that song!” He said, now within earshot of Lance’s phone. “I hear it everywhere these days. It’s _so_ catchy, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Lance mumbled, throwing a last look at the phone’s music player before turning it off. “ _Catchy_ ,” he repeated.

Lance turned to see his friend and found him fidgeting his hands in his lap. He sighed, knowingly.

“Spit it out, big guy. ‘Sup?”

Hunks hands stopped twitching as the boy looked up at Lance again.

“Another little bird told me you didn’t sleep here last night,” he said, looking right into Lance’s eyes. Lance hated this part even more than he hated Pidge’s tantrums the morning after his escapades. At least Pidge’s eyes weren’t full of raw worry when he saw in them. “It said you sneaked out past midnight and came home by yourself at dawn,” Hunk continued, his voice cautious. “That maybe you spent the night with that Lotor lad we’ve heard so much about?”

Hunk wasn’t one to assume anything from anyone, he was too kind to do that. And that was the exact reason it pained Lance so much when the guy looked so utterly worried about Lance’s wellbeing. God! Something needed to change. He was messing with too many people around him. It wasn’t fair for them.

Lance nodded at last and Hunk just hummed in acknowledgment.

“Figured that much,” he said. “Though I’m not here to judge. You already know what I think about the guy, and about you still seeing the guy. I won’t put you through that talk again; you’re not a toddler.”

“I wish little angry bird next door was as considerate,” Lance said, making his friend snort.

“She’s an angry bird alright,” Hunk admitted lightheartedly. “But she ain’t angry at you,” he clarified, with a thoughtful look in his eye. “She just hates the fact that she can’t logic her way into everything nor can she make you stop seeing that douche by the sheer power of her mind.”

Hearing Hunk saying something negative of someone always felt like a novelty, but Lance suspected he didn’t even know he was doing it in the first place. Such was Lotor’s effect on people.

“She jammed my door,” Lance insisted. “And I suspect she only yielded ‘cause Keith talked some sense into her. I bet she’s still planning to give me a hard time soon enough.”

“Nah, buddy, that’s why I’m here,” Hunk declared, to Lance’s amusement. “You know how she sucks at apologizing, and I still owe her from last ‘Blackjack Friday’ so…” He let the words trail off, gesturing to the space between him and Lance. “This is me paying my debt in the form of a deferred apology. She seems truly sorry, though. So much that I actually agreed to this just to know what the hell had she done. And lemme assure you, if anything, she’s just super angry _at him_.”

Lance looked up at Hunk, doing his best to internalize what he was saying. Pidge wasn’t angry at him. She was pissed at Lotor. And Hunk was right, the gal truly _sucked_ when it came to apologies. She was barely a teenager after all, even if her big brain allowed her to level up with the boys at college. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t quite get stuff sometimes; Lance wasn’t at his brightest either when he was eighteen.

“Okay, I hear you,” Lance admitted, earning a smile from his friend. “The real problem here is that, even if Pidge’s angry at… _him_ , it's actually me who takes the pounding.”

“Then maybe next time you should put her in front of that Daibazaal dude and see how that goes,” Hunk casually suggested, causing Lance to snicker at the mere thought of Pidge scolding Lotor into insanity.

They remained silent for a moment, Hunk humming contently and Lance looking at the mess of clothes still half-stuffed into his closet.

“I really should get back to this,” he said, standing up and waving his hands to the clothes’ general direction. “Got an early shift tomorrow and I haven’t done Iverson’s assignment yet.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Hunk said as he got to his feet. He stretched his arms over his head and sighed loudly. “One would think a dude with just one eye wouldn’t be too picky with long essays about aerodynamics, but what do you know, right?”

“Right,” Lance giggled a little as Hunk walked to the door. “Maybe we can do it together?” He ventured. Hunk stopped walking. “We could ask Pidge for help. Or even Keith! If he’s not out with his new boyfriend…”

Lance’s mouth worked faster than his head, and he didn’t even know why he’d just said what he’d said. Given the suggestive looks the Shiro guy sent in his direction that afternoon, he probably wasn’t anywhere near Keith’s pants. And even if he was, it definitely wasn’t Lance’s business. Hunk frowned a bit.

“Keith has a new boyfriend?” He asked, probably wondering just how much he’d miss by staying at Shay’s last night.

“Nah, just an old friend of him I met in the afternoon,” Lance dismissed with a gesture. “At least he introduced him as a friend. And anyways, you gonna join me to study or what?”

“You bet your facial cream I am!” Hunk confirmed enthusiastically. “Though right now I should get going. There’s this dip Shay taught me how to do and I _really_ wanna try it with some nachos.” The big guy licked his lips at the thought and Lance couldn’t help but smile.

“Don’t leave me out of the dip tasting,” Lance said, already taking some shirts from the pile on the chair.

“I won’t!” Hunk promised on his way to the door. He put his hand on the doorknob then stopped, turning his head to Lance. “You gonna join me and Pidge later for ‘Videogames Saturday’, right?” He asked, somewhat hesitant.

“Of course!” Lance said, cracking his signature shit-eating grin for Hunk’s benefit. “Someone oughta teach that gremlin a lesson after she took all of yours and Keith’s money.” Hunk beamed at him one last time then left for the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

Lance got to work again, significantly more cheerful than he’d been all day. He kept on stashing clothes away, making mental lists of things he needed to do and school notes he needed to revise. It took a long moment, but ultimately the catchy song made its way into his brain, as did the rules that happened to apply perfectly to his current situation.

He felt silly just entertaining the idea. Nonetheless, taking advice from a song was as valid as taking it from any other source - in Lance’s book, at least. Maybe the song could be equivalent to a first rehab step, only less conventional and with a better ring to it.

The important thing was for Lance to recognize he had a problem that needed fixing, even if his last attempts at getting over Lotor weren’t as successful as Lance would have wanted. He at least had to try, right? He owed himself - and his friends - that much.

And so that very night, when his phone buzzed to show a well-known pet name on the lit screen, Lance rejected Lotor’s call for the first time in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, what have I done? Are you feeling the pain? Cuz I know I am and this is only the beginning.
> 
> As you can see in the tags, this fic is gonna be a slow burn for Shance. Our boy is a mess and even if Shiro is dreamy (that he is!), Lance is nowhere near fit for something new. That said, let's get down to business! What did you think of the chapter? Was it too long? Not long enough? Did you find a typo? Tell me everything in the comments. Help me improve!
> 
> I'm going to try and write/edit/post at least a chapter every other week. Good news is the longest I take (probably) the longest the chapter would be. So yayy, bear with me and this silly excuse of a story.
> 
> Read y'all very soon!
> 
> \--
> 
> Dis the song - https://youtu.be/k2qgadSvNyU  
> BTW - Lotor’s pet name is ‘tomcat’. Yeah. Idek either, it was totally Lance’s idea.


	2. Not yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of weeks is not enough time to get over someone. Either way, Lance is trying his best. And maybe, just maybe, he's about to discover something else to focus on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello y'guys! Not taking much of your time here (juicy stuff is in the endnotes lol) but just to clarify, this fic does NOT have Lancelot as endgame. This is gonna be a Shance (one way or the other). So yeah...
> 
> Now go enjoy this testament of a chapter and yell at me after you're done!!

Lance was running late to work.

He was so late to work it was unbelievable. All because he was an idiot that couldn’t say no to a challenge. As satisfying as beating Keith’s ass in Mario Kart was, getting sacked from his - very flexible and honestly well-paid - job wasn’t worth it.

“Oh, god, Nyma is gonna _murder_ me,” Lance said under his breath, picking up the pace and walking as fast as he could.

He climbed up the stairs of the subway station two steps at a time, emerging into the crowded morning street like a spring daisy. He gained speed as he went, practically sprinting by the time he rounded the last corner.

_Castle of the Lions Café_ came into view, its vintage architecture sticking up like a nose on a block full of hypermodern structures and buildings. Lance pushed through the short distance separating him from his workplace, bouncing on the ball of his feet as he waited for the pedestrian light to turn green.

From there, he could see the line forming in front of the counter, which wasn’t helping much to his increasing distress. It was roughly seven forty-five, but the first morning shift was a horrible shift, made worse by the impending mid-term exams for those students that - just like Lance - took summer courses to get ahead on their college studies.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” Lance mumbled, his breathing shallow as he counted down the seconds to the green light.

_Three._

_Two._

_One…_

_GO!_

Lance hastened across the street and barreled through the Castle’s double doors. He dodged the long line of clearly disgruntled people and made a beeline to the counter, almost hopping over it to get to the other side. Taking an apron from the back room and putting it on as fast as he could, he hurried back to the counter, just next to where his co-worker was standing. A brief glance in her direction was more than enough for Lance to get a grasp of just how much trouble he was in right now.

Nyma was facing the coffee machine, a tall paper cup in each hand. The pale skin of her arms and face was covered on a thin layer of sweat, and some blonde hair strands peeked out from her uniform cap. Her apron was dampened and stained in some places, fresh stains, the kind of stain you get when a customer drops their order on the counter and you barely manage to avoid the hot liquid. The mop and the wet cloth next to the cash register confirmed Lance’s deductions.

The girl gave Lance a rather nasty look when he approached, mouthing a “you’re so dead” only the boy got to see. Nyma didn’t like to be a barista during the war-zone shift; there was a reason Lance almost never had to clean the toilets, after all. Lance mouthed a silent “sorry” to her and took the paper cups she was holding, finish the order, so she could manage the cash machine instead. She looked at him sideways for an instant, then rolled her eyes, sighing visibly as Lance took her place in front of the coffee machine.

Lance certainly knew his way around the coffee machine - which he affectionately called Kaltenecker. In fact, he knew it so well he didn’t mind working with it at silly in the morning, with lots of sleep-deprived college students gathering in front of the counter like junkies in need of their caffeinated fix. In all honesty, Lance enjoyed being a barista better than the other chores he had to do around the café. Serving coffee was mostly mechanic, and he wasn’t half bad at it. So e days he even had the time to share jokes and flirtatious one-liners with both his co-workers... When he showed up to work on time, at least.

He finished the orders at hand in no time, same as the other three waiting for him on the little plastic wheel to his right. Nyma’s handwriting was normally very easy to read, but the current post-it pieces stuck to the wheel were the proof of his co-worker’s wrecked nerves just before Lance arrived.

“Welcome to Castle of the Lions. May I take your order?” Nyma said from the cash register as Lance set the last order on the counter. The practiced line was followed by some rando’s voice asking for a medium size Frosty Blue Lion and an Altean Special Latte. Lance took the hint and started brewing the orders even before Nyma got to stick a new post-it to the wheel.

He slipped into a regular pace, letting his mind adrift while his body performed the tasks with practiced ease. Out of the blue, he remembered he had a Calculus class in the afternoon, in which he thankfully got to see all of his roommates.

Those three people had battled so hard to make sure Lance approved his midterm exam, just a few days before. He owed them his entire ass - and they certainly knew it. But as much teasing and house chores it ensued, Lance didn’t find inside himself the will to wholeheartedly complain about any of it.

Pidge, Keith, and Hunk had dragged him out of the Lotor shaped pit Lance was buried in upon stopping all communication with the man. He hadn’t got around telling them he was trying to cut ties with his ex, but either they already suspected it or it didn’t seem to matter. Be as it may, their willingness to explaining difficult math problems to him, lending him notes and helping him catch up with all the classes he’d missed was one of the reasons why Lance hadn’t relapsed.

He felt supported all the way, more so after asking for Pidge’s assistance to block Lotor from his phone. There was just so much Lance could do to stop himself from picking up Lotor’s calls or calling him back, made ten times worse due to the man’s persistence. Pidge had been very professional about it, no “I told you so”, not even a “finally”. And for that, Lance was grateful. 

It might have been barely two or so weeks since he decided to stop being Lotor’s metaphorical punch bag, but for Lance, that couple of weeks felt like a lifetime. He’d never managed to go through more than three or four days without texting or calling Lotor back. Even if Lotor didn’t reply, Lance got himself caught in that vicious circle of texting-waiting-pining-texting over and over and over. Up until Lotor decided he wanted more of Lance’s body. But not this time, and hopefully, not anymore.

Lance was so deep in thought that Nyma’s repetitive exchange with the customers started to fade and smudge into some sort of white noise. Between that and the café’s background music, all Lance could hear were loose words and tiny bits of song verses from time to time. It was peaceful, to be honest; his little calmness pocket, sewed inside the rather chaotic atmosphere of the establishment’s first morning shift.

Or so it was before a distinctively rich voice pierced through his blissful state of mind.

“I’d like a large Black Lion, please.”

Lance’s spine straightened to the sound. That _definitely_ wasn’t some rando. Memories from two weeks ago flooded his brain in an instant, causing Lance to almost burn his fingers with a hot steam from the coffee machine. He reprimanded himself - because he was being completely ridiculous - and kept listening.

“It’ll be 3.25,” Nyma said, completely unaware of Lance’s predicament. A moment went by; all Lance could hear was the sound of the cash machine while Nyma put away the man’s money. “May I have a name, sir?”

“Excuse me?”

“For the cup,” Nyma clarified, with a tinge of amusement in her voice. “We personalize the coffee cups so no one else can claim your order.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Of course,” the man replied, with the slightest of stutters. “Shiro,” he said after a brief pause, confirming Lance’s suppositions. “The name’s Shiro.”

Lance risked a glance over his shoulder, angling his body in a way he could both pretend to work and spy on the man in front of the counter.

Keith’s childhood friend was as attractive as Lance remembered. Or maybe a bit more, considering the guy sported what Lance could only describe as an inadvertently handsome look. Shiro’s clothes were casual in style, with a loose gray-colored scarf around his neck and a rather fashionable midnight blue wool jacket over his button-up white shirt. A pair of rectangular, thin-rimmed glasses completed the outfit, giving the man the appeal of a sexy college professor. His right hand once again covered with a silver-colored glove.

“Alright, Shiro,” Nyma said, scribbling Shiro’s name, and his order, on an orange piece of post-it. “Your order will be ready in a minute. Please wait nearby.”

“Great! Thank you, miss,” Shiro said with a smile. He looked up from Nyma to where Lance was peeking on their conversation and stared right into Lance’s eyes. _Busted!_ “Oh, and Lance,” Shiro continued, now talking straight to him, “get it _extra_ _hot_ for me, would you?” Then Shiro freaking _winked_ at him before stepping out of the way for the next customer to take his place.

Lance felt himself blush in a way he hadn’t experienced in literal ages. His face felt hot all the way from the neck, and he wasn’t even sure steam wasn’t coming out of his ears. He caught himself staring at the spot previously occupied by Shiro and quickly looked away, busying himself with some empty paper cups next to Kaltenecker.

Nyma turned around to place the post-it on the wheel. She frowned at Lance and tilted her head upon noticing Lance’s obvious blush. Lance mouthed a “shut up” to her, which she replied with a crooked brow in his direction. She shrugged a second later, turning her attention back to the cash register.

Lance let out a huff and finished the order he’d been working on before. It sure was weird for Keith’s Shiro to be there at Lance’s workplace, asking for a tall, hot vanilla espresso while winking innuendos at him. Worst of all, the thing happened near the only one of Lance’s co-workers that could - and possibly would - tease him to death about a hot customer hitting on him right in front of her salad.

To be fair, Castle of the Lions was a popular meeting place for all kinds of people - including childhood friends of shaggy roommates. Perhaps it was only a matter of chance and probability to have Shiro coming to the coffee shop precisely on Lance’s shift. Just a mere coincidence; an isolated incident. _Nothing to do with him_.

Lance stepped again into his practiced work rhythm, only disrupted by another brief encounter of the Shiro kind when Lance had to give Shiro his coffee. The man thanked him like any other customer would, but made a point of brushing Lance’s wrist as he went. The gentle touch sent shivers through Lance’s body and made him blush once more, earning him a snicker from Nyma’s general direction.

Lance rolled his eyes and got to work again. He was somewhat relieved Shiro’s order was now dealt with, even though it would do _nothing_ to soften Nyma’s imminent teasing wave.

_Whatever, it was just a coincidence_ , Lance thought defiantly. He glanced at the counter one more time to remind himself what was actually worth his attention; the customer’s line was still hellishly long and Lance had lots of work to do.

 

 

It was near the end of the second shift when the line of customers finally subsided.

Lance found himself struggling to keep his eyes open, counting down the seconds to his much-awaited fifteen minutes break. That morning’s adrenaline rush was certainly taking a toll on Lance’s energy. Furthermore, the coffee shop ambiance music was proving to be unhelpful; usually, Lance was okay with the chill beats and jazz sounds, but _boy_ what he wouldn’t give for a little Beyoncé right about that instant.

The coffee shop was a lot emptier too. Barely a dozen people scattered here and there, most of them using their laptops or vacantly staring at their phones while sipping from personalized paper cups. Lance had just placed a tall cup of plain Double Latte on the counter - the last order on the wheel, and realized there weren’t any more customers lined up in front of the register. He rubbed his eyes once, stretched his arms over his head and fought a big yawn in the process.

A glance to the analogical clock above Kaltenecker told Lance the next shift was barely ten minutes away. Nyma was supposed to take Plaxum’s place while the other girl took Lance’s. In turn, Lance was meant to take fifteen and then return to do any chore required.

Being the senior employee, Nyma was the one to assign the daily tasks, which actually wasn’t bad. The girl was a very respectful and equable boss, always distributing chores as fair as possible between the three of them. She even spared Lance from cleaning the toilets as long as he worked as war-zone shift barista. However, given Lance’s lateness that morning, he didn’t dare thinking about Nyma’s assignment for the day.

He was definitely going to need every energy ounce he could gather to get through the rest of the morning. As nice a boss Nyma could be, the girl also was a practiced manipulator. Lance could never say no to her, and she actually knew it. If Nyma wanted Lance to clean the toilets with his own toothbrush, he would probably end up doing just that. There was no use in denying it by now; Lance was done for, and it was probably his own fault.

Nevertheless, Lance’s eyelids still felt like they were made of plumb. He needed to rest for a minute, or he’d end up passing out over the wooden floor. Perhaps he could take his break a tad before the usual time if Plaxum didn’t mind covering for him.

Lance turned to look at the girl by the cash machine, composing what he believed was his most charming smile.

“Hey, Plax,” Lance called, lifting a flirty eyebrow in her direction. “Are you a mermaid, girl? ‘Cuz I wanna _sea_ you in my arms.”

The thin, dark-skinned girl stifled a laugh, more than used to Lance’s pick-up lines. She tossed her long, intricately braided hair over her shoulder before looking up to him.

“That’s even worse than yesterday’s attempt,” Plaxum said, still smiling a bit. “What do you need?” She asked knowingly.

“Can’t a boy tell a girl just how pretty she is today without it being a part of a greater scheme?” Lance asked, a hand on his chest in feigned offense. “Sweetie, you break my heart.”

Plaxum snickered again and Lance vaguely wondered when exactly did his flirty attempts at his co-workers became a joke. Not that he was offended by it or anything; making Plaxum laugh at his expense was practically a hobby of his. Considering how long it took the girl to warm up to Lance, being able to put a smile on her face on a daily basis almost felt like a trophy.

“Okay, fine, you got me,” Lance admitted, hands in the air as a signal of surrender. “I wanna take my break right now, but I’m not sure _the boss_ would allow it,” he confessed, lowering his voice in a way only Plaxum could hear him. It wasn’t an actual danger if Nyma got to hear them or whatever, but he enjoyed playing enigmatic.

“Ooooh, but you were late this morning, weren’t you?” Plaxum asked, dropping his voice down along with Lance’s. “I thought the boss had grounded you.”

“The judge hasn’t passed the sentence,” Lance dismissed with a flourish. “I’m a free man until proven otherwise.”

“Then why are you asking me to cover for you?”

“ _Because_ ,” Lance said, elongating the sound, “whether I’m in trouble or not, everything I say or do she can - and will - use it against me.”

Plaxum looked at him for a long moment, her facial expression somewhere between amusement and actual consideration. She turned her head to both sides of the café before speaking to Lance again.

“Go take that break, then. Before I regret it,” Plaxum said fondly. “If she asks, I’ll say you fled to Mexico.”

Lance trapped the girl in an embrace, lifting her from the floor at least a couple of inches. He planted a sound kiss on Plaxum’s head just before letting her go.

“Gracias, preciosa. I’ll bring you some tacos!” Lance said, winking at her and then hurrying to the backroom.

 

 

Castle of the Lions’ backroom wasn’t as impressive as the rest of the structure. It was a tiny lounge with a worn out two-seater couch, a small television, a mini fridge, and a microwave sitting on a wood counter. There was a small private lavatory too - for employees only, a perch for jackets and aprons, and a cabinet that acted as a locker. A door on the side led straight to the establishment’s storage, which in turn lead to a loading zone. To be honest, the only interesting thing about the room was the fact the Castle’s Wi-Fi signal was stronger in the inside.

Lance was sprawled on the couch, feet on the shabbiest coffee table you’ll ever see, and a tiny smile on his face. Hunk had sent him a video of two parrots reciting anime phrases to each other and Lance was having a blast watching it. Neither Pidge nor Keith had seen it yet, the former probably elbow deep into whatever ethical hacking enterprise she’d taken upon herself that day, and the latter most definitely sleeping after a late shift of waiting tables and dealing with drunk punks.

It had been barely ten minutes into Lance’s break, but he already felt rested. Having to sprint to get to the Castle and jumping into barista mode right after was among the things Lance hated about running late. Stress wasn’t good for his skin or his mood, it let him uneasy and somewhat jumpy. And no one at the café was shitty enough as to deserve a close encounter with a moody Lance.

He had just sent a reply to the group chat when Nyma’s head poked inside the room.

“Hey, stud!” She called, causing Lance to look at her in awe. She’d called him many things in the past, bur “stud” was a new one. “Someone’s asking for you over here.”

Lance frowned in confusion but Nyma’s head took none of it. She gave him a look that said “hurry up” and then disappeared, leaving the door open. Lance stood up a second later.  He pocketed his phone and strode across the room, slightly wondering who could be asking for him. Upon peering through the door, however, the wonder gave way to a low, frustrated growl.

Shiro was waiting for him by the counter, a few steps away from a waiting customer. He waved at Lance once he stepped into view, practically beaming at him. Lance forced a smile in return - one that might or might not have displayed his state of uneasiness.

“Hello again,” Shiro greeted. “Do you have a minute?”

“Uh, sure,” Lance replied, starting to think the guy’s presence at the Castle wasn’t a mere coincidence. “Wait for me outside?” He suggested, not wanting to be anywhere near his co-workers earshot.

Shiro did as he was told and Lance took a moment to collect himself. Plaxum and Nyma both gave Lance funny looks when he walked by their side but kept their thoughts to themselves. As much as Lance liked to flirt and tease and brag about his luring skills, this was the first time someone obviously interested in him showed up at his work.

Sure, it wasn’t as if Lotor never picked Lance up after a shift or gave him a ride to work the morning after - when things weren’t crap anyway. But those events where scarce bordering in mythological, due to Lotor’s repellency to get involved in anything regarding Lance’s everyday life and Lance’s habit of never asking anything from Lotor.

Lance sighed, shaking his head in an attempt to forget all Lotor related memories invading his mind. He made it to the front door and found Shiro seated on one of the café’s outdoor tables. The man waved at Lance again, waiting for him to sit across him on the table.

“So...” Lance started after a moment. Shiro just beamed at him like an enormous puppy and it rubbed Lance the wrong way. “You wanted to talk to me or something? Is this Keith related?”

“Keith related?” Shiro asked in return, visibly taken aback by the question.

“Well, yeah,” Lance confirmed, feigning innocence. He sort of knew what the guy was doing there, but he wasn’t keen to admit it. If Mister Chiseled-Features was bold enough to seek Lance out at his workplace, then he was tough enough to endure some teasing. “He’s your friend and I’m his friend. And since you and I barely know each other I can only assume…”

Lance let the phrase trail off as understanding washed Shiro’s face.

“Oh,” Shiro said at last, astound giving way to a soft smile. “No, Lance. This is _definitely_ not Keith related.”

“Right,” said Lance after another silence. He took out his phone and glanced at it, realizing his fifteen-minute break had just ended. Lance pocketed it again and huffed. This was taking too long.  “Are you telling me what’s this about, then?” He prompted. “Gotta get back to work and all.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’m sorry,” Shiro smiled apologetically. “Is just…” He paused as if he was looking for the right words. “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you look in that uniform?”

Now was Lance’s turn to be taken aback. This dude had just said he looked pretty in his barista outfit, a royal-blue apron and a cap with a big letter “C” on it. Pretty, from all things in the world. Freaking _pretty_!

Was this even the same guy that caught him mid-fall all those days before? That one seemed confident and composed. The one in front of him... He couldn’t even get his act together.

“Why, thank you?” Lance managed to say. “That doesn’t answer my question, though.”

“Oh, but I think it does,” Shiro said, lowing his voice an octave. Lance didn’t know what to make of that. “Look, let’s cut the crap, okay?” He started, sitting back in his chair and looking straight to Lance. A mild shiver crept down Lance’s spine at the sight. Now _that_ was the guy he remembered from the first time they met. “It’s pretty obvious by now that I like you. I mean, at least I think it’s pretty obvious? So… hmm. I was simply wondering if you’d be available any day of this week to, you know, go out on a date with me.”

_Finally._

“You want to take me on a date,” Lance stated, buying himself some time to come up with a good enough answer. Deciding whether he wanted to accept the guy’s proposal was costing him a bit more than expected, for whatever reason.

“Yes,” Shiro said confidently, unaware of Lance’s inner indecision.

“Me,” Lance shifted a bit on his chair. “On a date.”

“That’s what I said,” Shiro smiled at him again and Lance wanted to kick himself for overextending this conversation.

To be fair, the guy in front of him was incredibly good-looking, and although a bit of a creep, the fact he was Keith’s childhood friend brought Lance some peace of mind. However, now that Shiro showed his hand, all Lance’s mind could think of was stupid, oblivious, less than perfect Lotor.

Lance wasn’t naive enough to be saving himself for someone who probably didn’t even remember his name, of course. It wasn’t that at all. What it was, though, was something too complicated to even rationalize.

Shiro appeared to be really marvelous, and nice, and perfect. So much he actually reminded Lance of a time when Lotor also seemed like he was a dream come true. Logically, Lance knew the two of them were different persons, and this Shiro fellow was basically just a dude asking him out like so many others before him. Less than a year ago, he’d have accepted the invitation in a heartbeat, giving Shiro the benefit of the doubt - and probably some smooches, if the date turned out good enough. Now, though. Now everything was different.

There was this little feeling in his gut that Lance wasn’t able to ignore. A feeling much like fear of getting himself caught in a crossed fire so soon after his last romantic fiasco. And even if it was “just a date”, it definitely was something Lance wasn’t ready for just yet.

So he’d have to reject the big guy after all, even if he stayed half the morning at the Castle just to ask Lance out.

_Yikes._

“Okay, look,” Lance started, deciding the best approach was one of straightforwardness and honesty. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding here. Or perhaps I’m sending you the wrong vibes, which might be the case because sometimes I’m in this sort of default flirty mode, you know, and some people react to it ‘cause let’s be honest, I’m real nice to look at!” He blurted out. He was getting nervous by the minute and talking too much was his way of coping with awkwardness. Shiro kept looking at him, unfazed. Lance took a deep breath. “My point is that, right now, I’m not looking for anything nor _anyone_ in the romance department,” he explained, as gently as he could without giving ground. “Not even in the hookup department,” he added, to make his point extra clear. “I’m good as it is and, well… I’m actually planning to stay like this for a while.”

Lance finished his statement and tried to compose a fond smile for Shiro’s benefit. The guy was being rejected after all; being insensitive about it was uncalled for. It took about three or four seconds for Shiro to respond, wearing a puzzled expression Lance found rather amusing. Having the upper hand in these kinds of situations felt truly amazing. He’d almost forgot.

“Sorry,” Shiro spoke at last. “What did you just said?”

_Oh, my god_. The look on Shiro’s face! How could someone so handsome look so at a lost? Maybe it was kind of mean for Lance to be enjoying himself so much on Shiro’s expense, but righteousness be damned! He’d had his fair share of sorrow recently. Sure karma wouldn’t mind him having a bit of fun.

“I’m saying thanks, but no thanks,” Lance clarified. “You’re very sweet and I’m flattered. But my answer is no.”

Shiro blinked at him and tilted his head a little. It was actually kind of cute.

“Are you sure I can’t make you change your mind?” Shiro insisted, with a calm voice that had nothing to do with his face.

The man probably wasn’t used to be rejected, taking his gorgeousness into consideration. Rejection was good sometimes, though. “It builds character” and all that shit Iverson always said to them in class. However, Shiro seemed so perplexed and clueless it was mildly endearing. It almost left Lance wanting to comply on the date thingy. _Almost._

“I’m positive,” Lance said instead, as firmly as he could.

Shiro held Lance’s gaze for a beat or two before letting it down to the table and slouching visibly. He blinked there for a moment, probably collecting himself. Lance’s squishy heart couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“Well,” Shiro said, sitting back in the chair and meeting Lance’s gaze once more. “I guess patience is a good trait to have, right?”

“Say what?”

Lance’s mind was struggling to catch up. Was Shiro implying-?

“Either way, I don’t like easy,” Shiro continued, growing confident with every word. “Good thing I’m nothing but patient.”

“This isn’t an endurance contest,” Lance tried to reason with the man. “I’m telling you I’m not interested.”

“And I’m taking your word for it,” Shiro replied, smug smile even wider. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

_Wait, what?_

“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Lance tried again, raising his voice a bit. “I don’t want to date you,” he said, enunciating every word.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Shiro agreed as he stood up. He looked at Lance from above and gave him the brightest, most breathtaking smile he’d ever seen from someone that had just been rejected. “Goodbye, Lance. Thank you for your time,” Shiro stepped away from the table, not breaking eye contact. “See you around, I bet?” He teased, winking at Lance once more before leaving the café.

A solid two minutes passed by and all Lance could think of was what the heck has just happened! Did he reject Keith’s friend? Did the man actually _acknowledge_ he was being rejected? Was he a creep for real? A firm tap on his shoulder dragged him away from Wonderland. Lance looked up to see a very not amused Nyma pointing at her watch, which announced Lance was ten minutes late for his next shift.

He stood up so fast he got a bit dizzy but didn’t pay attention to it. He hurried into the establishment and went straight to the broom closet, not wanting to upset Nyma more than he’d done it over the course of that never-ending morning. She had the power to make Lance clean the toilets for all eternity, and he didn’t want to push his luck any further.

Shiro’s subject was better left alone until noon, once he’d sprinted out of the Castle and to his summer class.

 

 

Lance was running late again, but now to his Calculus class. Though it wasn’t his fault this time. Not _entirely_.

They were launching a new seasonal coffee flavor at work and Nyma asked him to stay and sign for the shipment while she did some errands of her own. After Lance’s inconsistency that morning, the least he could do was to say yes. Delivery guy was supposed to be there before noon anyway, which would leave Lance enough time to head home for a shower, grab his school stuff and go to his 2pm class.

At least that was the plan.

As it turned out, the shipment arrived more than an hour late. Even worse, Lance had to verify everything was in order, sign for the boxes, and stack them inside the storage room before he could even think of going home. By the time he was climbing up the stairs of the Basic Sciences Department, it was way past two, and he had to run for dear life to get to his classroom. He couldn’t afford to lose any more attendance points; he was already at his limit and the lecturer didn’t like him much either.

Lance stopped short about a couple of feet from the classroom's door. He took a deep breath and tried his best to look calm and nonchalant as if he didn’t just run all the way from the nearest bus stop. Lance let out a sigh of relief when the doorknob turned; the door being unlocked meant he wasn’t that late after all.

More confident than seconds before, Lance entered the auditorium-like classroom as quietly as he could manage. Lucky for him, the beautiful woman by the board was so engrossed in a long and complicated triple integral problem she didn’t spare a glance on him as he took the nearest seat he could find.

Lance settled on his seat, taking out his notebook and pencil while deeply regretting his life choices. The problem displayed on the board was long enough to fill almost all of it, accompanied not only by a set of mathematical symbols but by a series of indistinguishable graphics. Lance knew all about simple and double integrals - Pidge and Keith had made sure of it. But triple? In all honesty, he didn’t even know where to start taking notes.

A mild vibration against his leg yanked him out of his predicament. He looked over his shoulder to see his roommates, three rows above him and sitting one next to the other. Hunk and Pidge were looking at him with question marks on their faces while Keith - always stoic - kept his eyes on Professor Matheson’s explanation.

Lance’s phone vibrated again, in time with Pidge showing him her own phone in her hand. He wasn’t too thrilled to take out his phone while in the first row. Nonetheless, Matheson seemed so distracted he guessed it wasn’t that bad - as long as he kept it hidden under the table, of course. The screen flashed when he ran a finger over it, giving way to a preview of three new texts of their group chat.

 

Pidge: dude, where were u?  
Pidge: we thought u were dead!  
Pidge: Matheson’s gonna kick your ass if u miss another one of her classes!

 

Lance peeked at Matheson to be sure she wasn’t paying attention to him. Their Calculus professor was a babe, but she despised indiscipline more than Hunk despised tasteless food. The least he wanted was to give the woman a reason to reprimand him. He kept the phone hidden from sight and tapped a reply.

 

Lance: u think i don’t know that!?  
Lance: got busy at work

Pidge: good busy or bad busy? *eyes emoji*

Lance: *rolling eyes emoji* the worst busy.  
Lance: and now i can’t understand shit!

 

As if to prove his point, Lance looked up at the board again, still unable to decipher just where did the problem start and where did it end. He shook his head in defeat.

 

Lance: *sad emoji* *crying emoji*

Hunk: Ditto, bro, don’t worry. That’s why we take the class with these two nerds. They get the stuff you and me don’t.

Pidge: well pardon me, sir, but u’re a nerd urself  
Pidge: u only suck at math cuz u like mechanics better

Hunk: Mechanics ARE better than math, thank you very much.

Pidge: so u say...  
Pidge: u better start milking that cow right now, though  
Pidge: if u want me to explain triple integrals  
Pidge: cuz u two are dense!

Lance: cow? what cow?  
Lance: what did i miss?

Hunk: Pidge wants milkshakes in exchange for her knowledge. We discussed it earlier. (Don’t ask).

Pidge: milkshakes are the new currency around this town, loverboy

Lance: i thought it was laundry and house chores

Pidge: u can use that too! I’m an international bank

Lance: r u saying our milkshakes bring all the Pidges to the yard??

Pidge: I can teach you… but I have to charge!!!

Keith: Can you guys cut the crap and pay attention to the class?  
Keith: Or at least let ME pay attention?

 

Lance risked another glance at his friends. Keith looked even more annoyed than usual if that was even possible. He was taking notes with one hand and grabbing his phone with the other, eyes glaring at the board. The sight struck Lance as cute, but he refrained to say anything on the group chat. He knew better than to piss off one of the two people helping him study. Lance’s phone vibrated in his hand.

 

Hunk: Uh oh. Someone’s grumpy today.

Lace: today? try every day ever

Pidge: *lol emoji*

 

The texts stopped after that, though. Rudeness aside, Keith was right about the class. They needed to pay attention or at least die trying, the latter being Lance’s particular approach to the matter.

Lance took the best notes he could while knowing nothing at all about what he was putting into paper. He didn’t like it. Mostly because he preferred to know exactly what was being explained. He even used to color code his notes! But that was before his entire life started to revolt around certain jerk of a person.

He sighed, trying to push away the thoughts and regrets pooling inside his chest. The last thing he wanted was for Lotor to ruin another calculus class for him. Besides, he needed to focus. Focus on the task at hand and leave the handsome yet dangerous man out of his head for as long as he could manage. Speaking of handsome men, though...

Shiro’s voice asking him out on a date that morning washed away the Lotor related apprehension, replacing it with a funny feeling in his gut. It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. The emotion was just sort of _there_ , insidious in a way Lance wasn’t used to. It probably was nothing to brood about, or he didn’t think it was. If he didn’t allow Lotor to disrupt his peace of mind, mullet’s friend wasn’t even a threat.

Keith’s raspy voice snapped Lance out of his thoughts. The guy asked a question about some mathematical identity thus prompting Matheson to explain a fair part of the solution one more time. It was then when it occurred to Lance that Keith may have some insight on his friend dropping by the Castle. All of a sudden, texting behind Matheson’s back didn’t sound like a bad idea.

 

Lance: hey, Keith, ma’man  
Lance: u know ur friend from the other day? the one with the funny hair?  
Lance: well… he dropped by the café this morning  
Lance: know anything about that, buddy??

 

Lance tried his best to convey coolness in his words but truth be told, he was this close to starting biting his nails. Keith took an actual eternity to reply, the little “Keith is writing...” sign hovering over the chat like a menacing monster.

Lance’s stomach felt knotted as he fought the urge to look back toward his friends. Meanwhile, Matheson’s voice echoed around the classroom, but Lance’s brain was unable to recognize the sounds as actual words. What the fuck could be taking Keith so long to type?!

In the end, and after almost a whole minute of waiting, the reply came.

 

Keith: I just want to clarify that I can’t be held responsible for anything he said or did...

Lance: YOU ASS!! I KNEW THIS WAS YOUR DOING!!!!

 

So it _was_ Keith after all. Lance felt betrayed and mildly pissed off. Why would he do that? What the hell was he thinking?

 

Keith: It is barely MY doing. He’s just too insistent  
Keith: But he’s not that bad. You’re such a drama queen

Lance: first of all, i’m NOT  
Lance: second of all, ur guy’s a creep!  
Lance: i met him ONCE for like two seconds, and he went to my workplace and asked me out  
Lance: ON A DATE!!  
Lance: what the hell is that about??!!

Keith: I’m guessing you said no?

Lance: of-fucking-course i said no! i’m not crazy!  
Lance: besides, he said i looked pretty on my uniform  
Lance: freaking PRETTY, Keith!!  
Lance: who calls another person pretty when they’re wearing a lousy coffee shop uniform???

Keith: Uh, well, Shiro, apparently?

Hunk: Shiro? Who’s Shiro?

Pidge: Keith’s creepy friend, Hunk  
Pidge: do keep up!

Hunk: Right, sorry.

Keith: He’s not creepy.

Lance: I BEG TO DIFFER, KOGANE!!

 

For some reason, Lance’s heart was racing inside his chest, a strange mixture of annoyance and trepidation lingered like electricity all over his skin. Keith was taking his time to reply again, and Lance didn’t need to look back at his friends to know the boy’s brow was furrowed deep. He waited in silence, staring at his phone’s screen and holding his breath.

 

Keith: Please, stop asking about Shiro and let me take notes?  
Keith: We can talk about this later.

 

Lance glared at his screen for a couple of seconds before stabbing his fingers at it, typing a quick reply.

 

Lance: Fine! *angry face emoji*

 

He sent several angry faces after that, for good measure, and then tuck his phone away.

Matheson had started another problem - one that actually resembled some of Lance’s knowledge, but he was so upset about Keith’s lack of common sense he barely managed to take decent notes. Just when Lance was settling into a good note-taking rhythm, a new buzz against his leg disrupted his concentration. He rolled his eyes and made sure he’d copied everything there was to copy before checking the new texts.

 

Pidge: guys, I still don’t understand what the fuss is about  
Pidge: creep asked longlegs out, he said no, end of story  
Pidge: right, Lance?

Hunk: I’m with Pidge on this one, man. What’s the big deal?

 

Lance peeked at his friends and saw Pidge and Hunk looking at him, obviously waiting for an answer. Keith, however, was looking straight to Matheson’s board.

 

Lance: the big deal is…

 

Lance took his time to reply. What _was_ the big deal, again? Because Pidge was right, he did say no to Shiro. It should have been the end of the story. And yet there he was, beating around the bush like it was a freaking pinata.

“Keith’s betrayal _can_ be the deal,” said a voice inside his head, and Lance clung to the idea. He needed a scapegoat to his own messy feelings, after all. Let Keith be it.

 

Lance: BIG DEAL IS KEITH HANDED MY PERSONAL INFO TO A TOTAL STRANGER!!  
Lance: THAT’S THE DEAL!!  
Lance: HE’S PROSTITUTING ME TO HIS WEIRDO FRIEND!!!

 

It took around half a minute - and Lance was pretty sure Pidge was the one to tell Keith to look at his phone. But in good time, Keith abandoned his indifferent posture and tapped a reply.

 

Keith: I am NOT prostituting you, Lance. What the fuck?

Lance: it sure looks like it

Keith: I didn’t hand any personal info either.

Lance: that’s debatable

Keith: And just so you know, Shiro’s been my friend since I was ten. He’s NOT a weirdo, and he’s NOT a stranger  
Keith: You’re probably overreacting as you usually do

 

_Oh, no you don’t._

 

Lance: one, i’m NOT overreacting  
Lance: two, the guy’s such a creep, Radiohead is writing a song about him  
Lance: and three, he’s most definitely a stranger to ME, you FREAKING MULLET HEAD!!!

 

Keith’s sharp intake of air was so loud Lance could hear it above the classroom noise. For some unknown reason, his overgrown, pitch-black hair was a touchy subject. And as his roommate - and sort of friend, Lance knew better than to bring it up in any regular conversation. But this was war, Keith had betrayed him, and Lance was taking none of the guy’s bullshit.

Keith’s reply came soon after, failing to conceal Keith losing his temper at last.

 

Keith: STOP CALLING ME THAT, YOU STUPID BUTTFACE!

Lance: THEN STOP HANDING MY INFO TO CREEPS!!!!!!

 

Lance grinned like a maniac, tapping away another witty response. This was going to be an epic texting bloodbath. He was so ready to take out his frustration with his hot-headed room neighbor, Keith would never know what hit him! However, a soft tap on his shoulder woke him up from his texting trance.

“Is there anything you want to share with the whole class, mister McClain?”

Lance’s stomach made a funny void thing as his fingers stopped typing mid-sentence. He looked up from his phone and felt how every single drop of his blood went cold as ice.

Professor Matheson was so close to him, Lance could smell her flowery perfume. But even when the scent was mildly intoxicating, the glare she was directing at him had the power to eliminate any impure thought about the beautiful, fierce woman standing less than a foot away.

“No, sir…” Lance babbled, earning himself a crooked brow. “Er, miss…” He tried again, flinching at the way Matheson’s brow only went higher. “Uh, Professor?” Lance ventured, already bracing himself for the storm to come.

A brief moment passed by, every living soul inside the classroom holding their breath while Matheson stared down at Lance. He simply froze on his seat, the phone screen still lit and showing the chat group window.

“I bet the conversation with your friends is very interesting,” she started, every word pinning Lance more into his seat. “But unless you want me to take your mobile phone from you as if you were a twelve-year-old brat, I suggest you put it away for good.”

The phrase was followed by a moment of silence, where Lance didn’t dare to move or even to breath.

“ _Now_ , mister McClain,” Matheson prompted, and Lance almost dropped the phone upon realizing he was being asked to put the thing away.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Lance stammered, tearing his eyes away from the woman and pocketing the phone at last. “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” Matheson said, disdain tinting every syllable. Lance couldn’t bring himself to look at her again, so he didn’t even try. “Else I’ll have to take other measures.” The woman walked away after that, allowing Lance to breathe again.

The class was resumed and in turn, every eavesdropper returned his attention to the board. Lance could feel the gaze of his friends drilling a hole on the back of his neck, but he didn’t peer in their direction. He would talk to them once they got home that evening. Especially the one with the big, purplish eyes and the ugly 80s haircut.

 

 

It was near his bedtime when Lance decided he hated triple integrals with all his might.

He'd spent the last hour and a half trying to make some sense of his notes from that afternoon but his very distractible mind refused to cooperate. From Shiro to Matheson to freaking Lotor, everything inside Lance's head was a complete puddle of uselessness that only served one purpose: to not let him focus on the goddamned triple integrals.

Lance let out a frustrated growl and dropped the notes over his lap. He closed his sore eyes, letting his head fall back to the couch. If only he hadn’t text-fight Keith that afternoon, he could have asked him for some guidance. Pidge and Hunk were MIA that evening, and Keith’s shift at the bar usually was a late one. But Lance was too prideful, and so was Keith in any case. He’d have to apologize at some point for the “mullet” incident but right now, Lance didn’t feel like moving a muscle.

Some minutes passed in which the only thing Lance could hear was the mild buzzing of electricity and household appliances. He was starting to doze off when he heard a familiar voice talking to him from somewhere next to him.

“Hey, can I sit with you for a minute?”

Lance cracked an eye to peer at Keith. He was standing right next to him, his face shadowed due to a backlight effect. Keith was already wearing the black trousers and white button-up shirt from his waiter outfit, meaning he was about to go to work. Then, why was he asking Lance permission to sit beside him? The most likely response included Keith being the better man and deciding to apologize to Lance first before heading to one of his two jobs. _Ugh_. How could Lance stay mad at a guy like that? He couldn’t, that was the answer.

Lance ran his gaze up and down Keith again before nodding at him once. Keith sat next to him on the couch, and Lance forced himself to open both eyes and straighten his posture. He collected his notes from where they were scattered on his lap and pretended to organize them. From the corner of his eye, Lance caught a glimpse of Keith squirming a bit in his seat.

“I...” Keith started, angling his body toward Lance but not really looking at him. “I think I owe you an apology or something.”

Lance sighed. He wasn’t all that great at staying mad at his friends, was he? He stopped fiddling with his notes and angled his body toward Keith as well.

“I shouldn’t have told Shiro anything about you without your consent,” Keith continued with a frown. “Should have asked you first or whatever.”

Lance had to keep himself from smiling. Keith’s face was so full of concern and mild confusion it was simply adorable. He actually couldn’t believe just how lacking of people skills his friend was. Hell! The guy probably didn’t think to give Shiro some info would affect Lance’s mood so much. To be honest, Lance wouldn’t have guessed either.

“Yeah, asking would’ve been nice, but it’s cool. I did overreact a bit.”

“I didn’t want for Matheson to scold you either,” Keith added, frowning even further. “I’m sorry for that.”

“Nah, I had it coming,” Lance said, dismissing Keith’s words with a hand gesture. “I’m sorry I called you a mullet head, though. It was uncalled for.”

“It’s okay, you’ve called me worst.” A shy smile crept Keith’s face. He looked up to Lance. “You’re actually getting lazy. Gotta step up your game.”

Lance smiled as well. He _had_ called Keith worst things than “mullet”, particularly during their freshman year. Having a crush on the same guy beating you in every class was hard for Lance’s nineteen-year-old self. Anyway, Keith was very much not interested and Lance ended up moving on to greener pastures. Getting over his silly crush also helped him create a friendship bond with the guy, so win-win situation! Life was weird that way.

They stayed silent for a moment, the afternoon bickering pretty much forgotten. A quick glance at his watch let Lance know it was getting late for Keith to go to work, but his friend was very clearly not leaving yet. Lance waited.

“So about Shiro… He’s a decent guy, okay? Not a creep,” Keith said after a few seconds of apparent hesitance, looking Lance dead in the eye. “Go out with him or don’t. I don’t care. Just… make sure he knows I did my part.”

“Your part? What’s your part?” Lance asked out of genuine curiosity. “You’re making something out of this? Is he bribing you?”

Keith’s body language changed at the question, from somewhat relaxed to hyper alert. It was like watching a puppy transform into a hound dog.

“That’s none of your business, McClain,” he snapped, folding his arms tight in front of his chest and looking away.

“It damn straight _is_ my business if it has to do with me and my personal information,” Lance retorted, a little harsher than he meant.

“I told you I didn’t give him anything personal,” Keith said wearily. “I just let him know you might or might not work at a certain popular coffee shop around certain early hour. Shiro filled the gaps.”

Lance felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Was Keith actually insane?

“Then he _is_ a creep,” Lance stated. “Well done, shortstack. You handed your friend’s pretty butt to a potential serial killer!”

Keith huffed loudly, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose for a couple of seconds. He looked at Lance again.

“He’s not a serial killer, you dumbo,” he said like it was something obvious. “He’s just a professional ex-military tracker. Actually, you should know this. The guy’s pretty much a legend back at GU.”

“Wait, he is?”

Keith rolled his eyes at Lance in a gesture not so different from Pidge’s signature whole-body-eye-roll - the one that implied you were being so dumb, you stood on chairs to raise your IQ. Lance didn’t take it personally - he never had, and right now he was just massively curious.

“You do know Shiro is Takashi Shirogane, right?” Keith said, at last, emphasizing the name as he did. “ _The_ Takashi Shirogane?”

“He’s _what_?” Lance screeched, eyes wide as saucers.

“Oh, my god,” Keith lamented, with a hand over his face. “Do you even go to my same school?”

Lance’s brain had stopped working at once, Keith’s words reeling it into a short circuit. Keith’s Shiro was… _His stalker_ was...

“You mean your Shiro is Takashi Shirogane? The best pilot of his generation, precocious in every possible aspect, Garrison’s golden boy, the one Iverson can’t shut up about, first Fighter Class pilot to go to freaking _space_ right after he graduated, who only retired ‘cause of that bizarre crash landing from his Kerberos mission, who then did some work for the Military Garrison and finally retreated to do God knows what in God knows where? That Shiro?!”

Lance said all that in one rushed breath and felt rather lightheaded after. He was this close to having a heart attack because, how had he missed it? Was that dude really _the_ Takashi Shirogane Lance basically idolized back in his teenage years? And he had asked Lance on a _date_? How was that even possible?!

Keith was taking lots of time to answer, and at this point, Lance wasn’t sure it wasn’t on purpose.

“No, he’s not,” Keith said, at last, shaking his head a bit.

“He’s not that Shiro?” Lance blinked in confusion.

“He’s not _my_ Shiro,” Keith clarified, smirking at him. “But he’s that Shiro alright.”

“Holy Mother of Sweet Jesus!” Lance whined, covering his face with both hands.

Lance’s level of embarrassment was hitting stratospheric peaks. He just couldn’t _believe_ it took him so long to realize his stalker was actually his first male crush. Not only that but the fact it was fucking Keith, from all people, who opened his eyes. No way in _hell_ Lance was letting this be known by his other roommates. Not even in his deathbed!

A soft pat on his shoulder yanked Lance away from his mortification. He risked a glance at his friend and found him smiling sympathetically. It was an unusual sight and that alone had Lance forgetting his dilemma for a moment.

Only for a moment.

Lance regained his composure by rubbing his face with both hands and running them through his hair. He took a sound breath.

“He’s… I mean…” Lance started with a suddenly dry throat. He needed a drink - and probably some good decades on a cryogenic pod. “Shirogane dude doesn’t look like the pictures of him hanging on the library’s wall.”

Keith let out an amused huff.

“That’s ‘cause he was younger on them. Also, he used to dye his white lock back in the day and was way less ripped than he is now. I think that happened after the accident, actually.”

_The accident_.

A crash landing that almost took Shiro’s life along with the life of his crew members. The whole thing was marked down as top secret. However, given Pidge’s father and brother were the comm spec and onboard engineer respectively, the inhabitants of Lance’s home were pretty aware of every detail. Like the Galaxy Garrison covering up the issue by tagging it as “pilot error” when, apparently, it was all an equipment’s malfunction.

Keith and Lance had even met Pidge’s brother that year, for a tuition on some Theoretical Physics assignment they knew nothing about. They both ended up doing Pidge’s apartment chores for a whole month after the deal, of course, but it was worth it. Matt’s guidance was invaluable for them to pass, and his insight on the Kerberos mission was a blast to hear as well.

In any case, Lance couldn’t recall Keith ever mentioning he was Takashi Shirogane’s playground buddy. Not even when Matt told them about the tragic consequences the crash brought upon the pilot. Speaking of which…

“That thing on his right hand,” Lance started, feeling dumber and dumber every passing second. “Is not a glove, is it?”

Keith looked at him for a second before shaking his head. Lance felt like crawling under a rock and dying of embarrassment.

“He’s pretty cool about it, though. Even cooler than Matt, and that’s saying much,” Keith a said after a moment. “You should ask him if you’re curious. I know I was when we met again.”

“...right.”

An awkward silence fell upon them after that, one Lance didn’t know how to sort out. In the end, it was Keith who broke it.

“Fuck, I’m late,” he said under his breath. He got off the couch with a not-all-that-concerned look on his face. To have been _Marmora_ ’s employee of the month six times in a row sure had its benefits.

Keith walked toward the apartment door and took his jacket from the hanger. Still sat on the couch, Lance stretched his back like a cat and yawned. He could feel the exhaustion take a toll on him. Had this day lasted like a week or something?

“Hey, Lance,” Keith called from the door, his keys already on the knob. Lance looked up at him. “Think about giving Shiro a chance, okay? He’s a good man and for some reason, he likes you. Besides, if he treats you wrong, at least this one I’ll know where to go kick his ass.”

Keith smiled at him then. A sincere, face-splitting grin that made Lance wonder if the mere thought of kicking someone’s ass could be that satisfying to his roommate.

He left after that, leaving Lance all alone in the living room to deal with the cluster of feelings the new information had brought to attention. Was this some sort of cosmical joke? Because there was no way on earth or nearby planets this whole situation could be happening to him. Takashi Shirogane, a former freaking _astronaut_ , had asked him out on a date. And Lance said “no”, for crying out loud!

On top of it, the most obnoxious of his friends had asked him to give said astronaut a chance. Keith even volunteered to kick his ass if the thing went south! Had the world turned upside down or was it just Lance’s life? Worst of all was Shiro actually seemed a nice and decent fellow.

However, in all honesty, Lance wasn’t going to be ready to date someone as Shiro - or maybe someone in general - any time soon. Lotor’s wounds were still fresh, they still hurt, and they were as real as the first day Lance got them.

Maybe it was just time to go to bed. It had been quite a day, after all, so it was only fair for Lance to call it a night. Problems would still be there for him to mull over in the morning and at least this time, he was ready to face them.

Or as ready as he could ever be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!!
> 
> First of all: I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. Almost a month in the makings cuz RL is a bitch and I'm the newest resident of back pain hell. Either way, I'm so so grateful for all the comments and support y'all have thrown in my direction. Every time someone comment, kudo or bookmark this silly thing, my heart goes boom!
> 
> About the chapter: I bet you noticed this one's longer than the first. I still can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I'm actually over stretching my english-writing abilities in here. I just hope this was good to read and (hopefully) understandable enough. I estimate next chapters are gonna be about the same length. Also, I settled in a 13 (ish) chapter length for the story. So buckle up, y'all!!
> 
> In regards to the story: What did you think of this chapter? I know it has a lot of info, but I wanna know what you guys think of that info. You think Lance was overreacting? Is Keith nuts for giving Shiro the info? Is Shiro actually a serial killer? :O I wanna know every bit of opinion, theory or hypothesis you have. So please leave comments!!
> 
> ~~I'm gonna try and deliver a chapter every other week or so from now on~~ ( **update below** ), but you gotta know I'm always thinking of this fic. Either way, you can go check my updates live on my twitter account *wink*
> 
> Make sure to keep reading this long-as-heck endnote for important insight.
> 
> See y'all soon!~
> 
> \--
> 
> **Important stuff about this thingy:**  
>  * GU = Garrison University  
> * Galaxy Garrison = Space exploration fellows.  
> * Military Garrison = Y'all know what this one's about.  
> * Basic Sciences Department = the building where engineering (and actually all GU’s students) go learn the basic stuff like calculus, elemental physics/chemistry, etc. They have other specific buildings for faculties and all that.
> 
> If you have any questions about this Modern Setting™ of mine, please leave it in the comments. I wanna know if you guys can follow my brain’s delusions or if I have to step up my game.
> 
> \--
> 
> This song reminded me of Lotor. Is like, he could hear it and think of Lance or something. That’s all I’m gonna say about him... for now *wink* https://youtu.be/ndL_xLnWh_M
> 
> \--
> 
> **07-01-18 update**  
>  I'm still working on this fic, and thinking of it almost every day. Chapters 1 and 2 were edited lightly (okay, ch. 2 maybe not so lightly) because y'all, I'm re-reading to catch up! If you're waiting for this fic, THANK YOU! I hope we see each other very soon~♥


	3. Patience is a virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro is nicer than expected and Lance doesn't know what to do with that information. He's definitely not thinking of him, they're not even friends! But Lance's coworkers might have a different take on the matter.

“Last one?” Lance asked wishfully, right after handing an extra-large Yellow Lion to some guy named Tyler.

“Yup,” said Plaxum, sorting money through the cash register’s many compartments.

“Oh my god, _finally_!” He let out with a sigh, making his back pop. “Is it me or war-zone shift is getting worse by the day?”

“Is not you,” Plaxum confirmed, closing the cash machine drawer. “Summer term is almost over, meaning finals and lots of caffeine craving. Weren’t you taking a class?”

“Two, actually,” Lance corrected with a big smile. “But I took my finals couple of days ago. Can’t you tell I look better rested?” He then pointed at his own face and winked, earning a snicker from his coworker.

“You look less zombie-ish, I’ll give you that.” Lance made a show of pouting and Plaxum snickered again. “Did it go well?”

“You bet your freckles it did! Top ten scores right here, baby.”

“Oooh. Nice!” Plaxum high-fived him and Lance beamed at her. “Then you have some free weeks before next term starts, right? So good for you, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Lance said, delighted. “Three full weeks of absolutely no studying.”

“You gonna take afternoon shifts here?”

“I still don’t know,” Lance confessed, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, it’d do good to my bank account and all. But I’m kinda looking forward to getting some rest, relax, to chill for a bit, ya know?”

“Yeah…” Plaxum said, taking a cloth from behind the counter. She started wiping the wooden surface with a somewhat longing expression. “Chilling must be nice.”

Lance took a good look at his coworker and saw things he hadn’t noticed before, like the bags under her eyes and her long hair - usually carefully braided - tied in a messy bun. Plaxum’s expression was a bit off too, eyes glassy and mildly reddened. Above all, she looked sad, and a pained expression crossed his features while Lance was watching. His heart constricted at the sight. He sighed to himself.

“Uh, bae...” He started, trying to sound casual. “How’s your granny?”

Plaxum stopped wiping for a second before starting again. She let out a huff of air.

“She’s feeling better,” she said, sounding sincere. “It’s just, between my pre-college classes and her illness I’ve been wearing thin lately. It’s only me and her, after all.”

“Yeah, I know how it is,” Lance said sympathetically. “I remember when my grandpa got sick in my sophomore year. My mom had me and my siblings to help her around and it still wasn’t enough.”

“Yeah,” Plaxum quietly agreed. “I guess chemo just sucks,” she said, shrugging.

Lance put an arm over her shoulders for a quick sideways hug. The girl leaned into it with ease, and Lance’s heart ached. He wished there was something else he could say or do to help his friend in the long run. Although, maybe there was a thing he could do to ease her morning. He let go of her.

“You know, you should go take your break,” Lance said, poking her arm. “Shift’s finally dead, so I can manage on my own for a couple minutes.”

“I still gotta sort the cash,” she said, looking up at him. “You know how Nyma is, and war-zone was madness today. I’m pretty sure I ended up mixing twenties with singles. She’ll have my head tomorrow if I let her precious cash machine in disarray.”

Lance dismissed Plaxum’s comment with a hand gesture.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ve gotcha,” he said with a smug smile on his face. “They call me Mister Money for a reason.”

“Nobody calls you that,” Plaxum retorted, smiling a bit. Lance felt his heart ache a little less at the sight.

“Yes, they do. Now go, go, go,” he insisted, ushering his friend out with a soft push to her back. “Take your break and text that silly little girl that’s taking your heart away from me.” Plaxum turned her head at him, cheeks suddenly pink.

“Lance!” She squawked. Lance smirked knowingly. “Don’t say that.”  

“Yeah, yeah. You guys are just friends. Whatever. Just text her a heart emoji from me, ‘kay?” Lance pushed her further toward the backroom door then winked at her, barely managing to dodge when she swiped a hand in his direction.

After Plaxum was gone, Lance kept smiling to himself. Young, naive love usually had that effect on him. He was such a romantic at heart.

Lance kept on cleaning their working area, thinking about how good it was not to have classes that afternoon. He turned his back to the counter, sorting out paper cups and other stuff near Kaltenecker, and started to move his body along the café’s music. Was that _Single Ladies_? Plaxum really knew how to thank a boy for taking over her shift.

A moment went on, and Lance remembered his promise to sort out the cash. He spun around, following the song’s beat in a smooth - and totally not practiced - movement. Then almost nearly tripped on his feet when he noticed Shiro watching his performance from the other side of the counter, smiling at him and handsome as ever.  

“Hi, Shiro,” Lance greeted, looking at his adolescence hero and trying not to dwell on how dapper he looked that morning. One thing was Lance not wanting any romantic entanglement with him, other was Lance’s capacity to admire a fine male specimen given the opportunity. “What can I do for you?”

“Hello, Lance,” Shiro said back, always polite, although looking a little nervous. “I- hmm… was looking for the girls, actually.”

 _Of course_ , Lance thought. He couldn’t say he was surprised.

Ever since the disastrous first time asking Lance out, the man had religiously shown up to the café. Each war-zone shift went like that, with Shiro among the first customers asking for a large Black Lion. He was very polite and collected, all smiles and small talk to whoever was at the cash register. The exchange was usually accompanied by any variant of “Good morning, Lance” topped with a warm smile that could definitely melt polar ice caps.

After getting his coffee, Shiro often picked one of the many tables at the back of the establishment. Laptop in front of him and coffee cup to the side, the man seemed to use his time there to get some kind of work done. Always heading out near the end of the morning’s third shift. Always waving out at Lance and wishing him a great day.

It was about two weeks later and Shiro kept showing up. He was kind of a regular customer now, well-known to the girls and even the Castle’s delivery boy. The three of them even had bets on when would Shiro stop showing up due to Lance’s cold shoulder. So far, the only one sure he wouldn't quit was Plaxum. The other two owed her a buck for every day Shiro was there, or that was what Plaxum told Lance.

“Nyma is on leave today,” Lance explained, his voice neutral. “And Plaxum just took her break.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence fell upon them, Shiro looking extremely taken aback and Lance just trying not to snicker at the poor guy. Lance wasn’t dumb, he knew what was going on. But the fact was he rather enjoyed seeing the man struggle. He was something of a jerk, apparently.

Lance took the cloth near the cash register and started wiping the counter from imaginary stains. He was giving Shiro time to decide whether he wanted to call it a morning or tell Lance anything else. He barely managed to suppress a smile; purposefully tormenting Garrison’s Golden Boy _really_ shouldn’t be this much fun.

“Is it okay if I give this to you?” Shiro said in the end. Lance looked up at him and stopped wiping at once.

Shiro was holding a big ass chocolate bar, wide as the man’s hand and almost as large. It was wrapped up in some kind of glossy paper, dark red in color, with a big logo on the front. Also, was that Spanish?

“What do you mean?” Lance asked a heartbeat too late, just processing Shiro’s question. He made an effort to regain his cool. Shiro cleared his throat.

“Ahem- I... I just-” The man was struggling and it was unnervingly cute. Lance kept looking at him with the straightest face he could manage, waiting for the words to come out. “I want you to try this,” he said at last, offering the chocolate bar to Lance. “A friend brought it to me from abroad and it’s really good. I thought of leaving it for you with Nyma or Plaxum, so you wouldn’t think it’s some kind of trick into dating me.”

The phrase sounded casual, almost unintentional, as if Shiro didn’t realize having just implied Lance was some sort of paranoid freak. To be fair, Lance kind of was paranoid around Shiro, even more so given Lance’s past love life. Was it that obvious, though? Were Lance’s feelings so in display for the world to see? He did his best not to cringe.

“I wouldn’t think that,” he said instead, sounding colder than he intended. “I made myself very clear the first time, did I not? I’m trusting you to respect that.”

To Lance’s surprise, Shiro smiled at him. Was this man a masochist?  

“Yeah,” Shiro said. “You were pretty clear. But I still want you to try this,” he held the candy a little further. Lance couldn’t help recoiling slightly; Shiro gave him a reassuring smile. “C’mon, take it. No strings attached, I promise.”

Lance raised a meditative brow and really looked at Shiro. He seemed transparent enough, no reason there to think the offering was more than just a considerate gesture. At the back of his head, Lance could hear Keith’s promise to kick Shiro’s ass on Lance’s behalf at any given moment, which was oddly reassuring as well. Ultimately, it was just chocolate. _Free_ chocolate, no less.

He extended a hand toward Shiro and the man placed the chocolate bar in Lance’s palm. Lance couldn’t help but notice the lack of finger brushing, in comparison to that first time handing Shiro's labeled paper cup. Since that day, Lance made a point of placing Shiro’s cup on the counter before he was even there to take it. Noticing Shiro was respectful enough as not to touch his hand again without his consent, Lance couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t in fact being a tad paranoid around him.

“Thank you, Shiro,” Lance said, wrapping his hand around the candy. Shiro then directed one of his big, bright smiles at him.

“Thank _you_ ,” he said, his tone sincere. “I’ll leave you to it then, I’ve got some stuff to do at work. Please give the girls my regards?” Lance nodded and Shiro did too. “Bye, Lance. See you tomorrow.”

And there he went.

Lance stood there for a moment, looking at the fancy foreign chocolate clutched in his hand and feeling something inside his gut he couldn’t quite place.

Someone cleared their throat right behind him, snapping Lance back into reality. Nyma put an arm around Lance’s shoulder and shook him slightly. He rolled his eyes, already used to Nyma entering the establishment through the loading area, popping up from the backroom like a freaking creep.  

“I saw that,” she said, leaning forward to look at Lance’s face.

“What?” He snapped, mildly annoyed.

“You’re torturing the poor fella,” Nyma said, voice tinged with pity. “That was unnecessarily rude.”

“Hey!” He replied, sensible enough to look offended. “I am _not_ torturing him. I’m just… enjoying myself a bit too much.”

“Sounds like torture to me.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you have the hots for him.”

“Well, duh! The guy’s stupidly handsome,” Nyma said, matter of factly. She let go of Lance. “I’ve told you. If you don’t want him, I volunteer.”

“You already _have_ a boyfriend,” Lance pointed out, turning to look at her properly. “He’s our delivery boy!”

“Rolo’s not the jealous type,” she retorted with a smug smile. Lance rolled his eyes.

“Weren’t you supposed to be on leave, anyway?” He asked, to settle the Shiro issue.

“I got out earlier than expected, decided to check on you guys,” Nyma explained, shrugging. “I saw Plax back there, though. She okay?”

“She looked wrecked, so I told her to take her break.”

“Oh, yeah. The grandma?”

“Yeah.”

They fell silent after that. It really wasn’t a conversation to have in the middle of a workplace, less so with Plaxum mere feet away taking her well-deserved break. They both knew what was going on with the girl’s grandma and were trying to be supportive. It was really sad, but it also was life. Lance sighed, snapping himself out of that spiral.

“I promised her to sort out the cash,” he said. It was halfway through the morning, and he still needed to justify his paycheck (a.k.a. to move and distract himself from depressing thoughts). Nyma seemed to feel the same. She nodded and stepped out of the way.  

“Then I’ll finish this shift with you, let Plax chill a bit longer,” she stated, no room for discussion. “Imma go change my clothes real quick and be right back. Don’t go anywhere!”

Then she disappeared again.

Lance zoned out fast while sorting singles and fivers through the cash register drawer. The chocolate bar sat heavy on his apron’s pocket, making him think about Nyma’s accusations.

Was he really being an asshole to Shiro? It wasn’t the first time Nyma pointed that out to him. Even Plaxum had said something about it, although in a less direct way. Namely, it wasn’t like Lance was being rude or harsh to the man - not on purpose, anyway. It had to do with the fact Lance had made a choice. And he wasn’t about to change his mind just because Shiro turned out to be nicer than expected.

Lance’s life was heading up again: He was sleeping better, eating better. Dang! His _skin_ was finally recovering. His grades improved a lot with the help of his friends, the ever-present sadness was toning down, and he was finally able to start paying his credit card debts. His life was far from perfect, but he was becoming happier and happier every day. The last thing he needed was for some beefcake to come waltzing into his life, ruining the delicate balance he had fought so hard to regain.  

Lance let out a huff, shaking his head in defeat. He really ought to stop thinking about this stuff in the middle of his shift. It wasn’t the right place, and certainly not the right time.

It simply _wasn’t_.

 

 

The Castle was quiet that morning, an unmistakable sign of the end of GU’s summer courses. Students were likely taking a justified rest after all that stress, having scores free dreams and sleeping past sunrise.

Summer courses being over meant a significant decrease in the war-zone shift’s stress as well, a change more than welcomed by all the staff. Sure, they still had other clients to serve, but it was a feeble amount in comparison.

Which was the main reason why Lance noticed a certain someone’s absence almost right away.

“Yo, stud,” Nyma called him from the cash register. Lance flinched at the nickname, already knowing where the conversation was headed. “Where’s Mister Stalker today, huh?”

“The hell would I know?” He spat, busying himself around Kaltenecker. “We’re not friends.”

“But he wanna get _friendly_ with you, yeah?” Nyma retorted, and Lance could practically hear the smirk in her voice. He huffed and tried to ignore her. Shiro - or the lack of him - wasn’t Lance’s problem.

“Nyma, don’t be like that,” Lance heard Plaxum say from the other side of the counter. It was her turn to mope the floor. “He’s probably worried too.”

“I’m not _worried_!” Lance all but squealed, turning around so fast he almost got dizzy. “I mean, why would I be? I don’t care about him.”

Nyma deadpanned. “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe because he has shown up here every day for the past three weeks and now he’s MIA?”

“You don’t think something bad happened to him, right?” Asked Plaxum now leaning on the counter, her big, brown eyes looking worriedly at Lance.

“He probably called it quits,” he said shrugging. Something in his gut twisted upon admitting the thought out loud, mostly because it had been circling in his mind since he noticed Shiro’s absence.  “Is not so hard to picture, y’know?” He added, glancing at Shiro’s favorite table and finding it as empty as the last time he unconsciously checked.

“I don’t know about that, Juliet,” Nyma said, voice growing serious. “Your Romeo seemed pretty determined.”

Lance shrugged again, unwilling to keep discussing Shiro’s motive to not be there. It probably was nothing anyway: some traffic jam, a work meeting or perhaps Lance’s lack of interest denting the man’s resolve at last. Be as it may, it wasn’t Lance’s problem, so there was no use on thinking about it. Shiro was bound to stop showing up eventually, and to be honest it should be a relief. Lance could finally move on with his life as he’d planned on doing before Shiro’s date proposal.

It was all good. All great, actually. So awesome he could barely wait for his coworkers to forget everything about the tall, handsome man wooing him without really doing anything besides being a decent fellow. Sure, he made Lance feel a tiny bit special and seeing him get all happy whenever Lance decided to say “hi” back had become one of the highlights of Lance’s day.

But it wasn’t as if Lance couldn’t live without having Shiro’s presence around every morning. It wasn’t like that at all. He could - and would - go back to the way things were those two weeks after their first meeting. In fact, he’d start right that instant!

He’d also ask Keith about Shiro, though, just in case something had happened to him. Not because he cared or anything - nothing farther from the truth - but because he was a civilized person with a deep sense of empathy for others.

Yeah, he’d ask mullet boy in a bit.

 

 

The rest of the morning was as slow as the first couple of shifts predicted it would be, few clients coming and going, asking for the same flavored coffees and fresh pastries over and over and over. And somehow, Lance could barely stand it.

He felt unsettled as if there was something gnawing inside his mind, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. Or rather he _could_ tell what was wrong with him, which honestly didn’t make him feel any better.

As it turned out - and even though he would never admit it to Nyma and Plaxum, he was in fact worried about Shiro. More so after he texted Keith.

His friend was good for a lot of things, but calming down Lance’s worry wasn’t one of them. “I’m sure he’s alive, Lance. I’d knew if he was dead,” was Keith’s brilliant way to tell Lance not to worry. “If someone calls saying he died, you’ll be the first to know.” To be honest, Lance didn’t even know how on earth was he friends with such a detached dickhead.

So Lance volunteered to clean the tables and tidying around near the end of the fourth shift, earning himself some suspicious looks from his coworkers. They all knew Lance _never_ volunteered to be away from Kaltenecker, but to be honest Lance didn’t care much about them noticing his out of character behavior. He just needed something - anything - to focus on.

“Hey, Lance! Come here, please.”

Lance looked up from the table he was wiping, his gaze falling on the group currently gathered behind the counter. There were Nyma, Plaxum, and also Rolo, looking back at him as if waiting for him to hurry up. The wall-clock over Kaltenecker announced a quarter to twelve. _When did it get so late?_

“Here,” Rolo said the moment Lance was at arm's reach. He then pressed a large, rectangular object onto Lance’s palm. “Your boyfriend sends you this.”

Lance blinked a couple of times before the meaning of Rolo’s words reached his brain. He looked down to his hand and saw a big chocolate bar resting there, with a note attached to it:

_See you soon, blue eyes._

_—S._  

 _Shiro_ , Lance thought, more than a little relieved. _He’s okay._

“He says he’s sorry he couldn’t make it today,” Rolo continued, bringing Lance back to reality. “Got caught up on work or something.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Lance retorted, too late for it to have an effect. “We’re not even friends.”

Rolo deadpanned and Lance couldn’t help but notice it was almost the same expression Nyma directed at him earlier. Those two were truly made for each other.

“I don’t know about friendships, but he definitely wants some of your loving,” Rolo said, unfazed. “‘Cause he ordered four drinks just to have me delivering to his office.”

“He what?” Lance asked, his brain finally connecting the dots on why would Rolo deliver a gift and a note from Lance’s missing stalker.

“Oh my god!” Plaxum said, a hand over her mouth. “The four Black Lions ?”

“Yeah,” Rolo confirmed, nodding. “And the guy even tipped! I mean, I love Nyma to pieces, but I wouldn’t buy a bunch of expensive drinks just to send her a note. Not unless it was her birthday or something like that.”

Lance's eyes moved from Rolo’s curious expression to his coworkers knowing looks then back to the things in his hand. He clutched the candy bar unconsciously, feeling something inexplicably warm growing inside his chest. He felt like laughing out loud at the silliness of this whole thing. After all the sadness and pain and overall angst surrounding him not so long before, how come this cliché rom-com scene was his life? He shook his head, unable to stop himself from smiling like the idiot he was.

“Uh, honey,” Nyma called him, placing a hand to his arm. Lance looked up at her, noticing how the other two people there had made themselves scarce. “I know I tease you a lot but imma be real with you for once, ‘kay?” She searched for his eyes and Lance nodded. “I really don’t know what happened to you before, but I guess it was shitty enough for you to, I don’t know, swear off relationships or something. And believe me, I get that. But Mister Handsome seems to be a nice enough fellow, and we all know - yes, yes we do - you’re not as disinterested as you claim to be. I know it’s your choice and I’m probably overstepping a bit here but I mean, _damn, Lance_! If you don’t wanna date him, I swear to Jesus I’ll do it for you,” Rolo’s exaggerated gasp echoed somewhere behind Nyma and Lance snickered, then focused back on her. “I’m not saying you should marry the guy, but at least talk to him next time he’s here?” She asked, expression so serious Lance started to wonder how long had she wanted to say that.

Nyma stared at him as if waiting for an answer. Lance nodded once, then announced he’d take his break.

No one followed him to the backroom and for that Lance was grateful. He needed some time alone to think about what Nyma said, mainly because she wasn’t all that wrong. He did care about Shiro more than he wanted to accept and that whole morning was the very proof of it, with him brooding and worrying due to the evident Shiro shaped space inside the Castle.

Then why did he refuse to give Shiro the benefit of the doubt? He kept telling himself it was because of his open wounds and nefarious past pseudo-relationship, which was a totally valid reason to want to stay away from dating forever and more. But at the same time, hearing Nyma’s reasoning made him realize maybe staying completely away from everything love-related wasn’t the answer he was making it be. Perhaps getting himself out there again - from a healthy, self-caring perspective, of course - was also necessary for him to get over his romantic fears once and for all.  

Shiro seemed to be a decent person, he’d been Lance’s hero since he realized he wanted to be an astrophysicist, and one of Lance’s best friends vouched for him weeks before. If Lance wanted to attempt dating again, Shiro was probably one of the best prospects he could have ever encounter. In case things didn’t work out, he could always deal with it as the adult he was supposed to be; and Shiro would probably do the same, taking the man’s previous behavior as an indicator.

Worst case scenario, Lance would have to ask Keith to fulfill his promise. Best case scenario, they’d go on a great date and Lance’s apprehension would promptly dissipate. For better or for worse, Lance definitely owed himself a try.

 

 

It took three more days for Shiro to pop up on the Castle, and Lance was growing impatient by the second.

Every day of absence, Rolo brought Lance a different type of candy with a short note attached to it. It never said much, barely enough for Lance to know it wasn’t a scheme from his coworkers; none of them could possibly know about Shiro calling him “blue eyes” the first time they met, and even if they knew, Lance had made sure to ask Keith for a piece of Shiro’s handwriting to double check.

It was Shiro sending him candy and notes as if they were a couple of love-struck teenagers, a gesture Lance could just categorize as cute, even though totally unnecessary. He’d have done what he was planning to do even if the first gift was the only one to arrive, both because he was determined to give Shiro - and himself - a chance, and due to Nyma’s threat to make him wash the toilets for a whole month if he chickened out.

So when he spotted the characteristic white hair locks among that morning’s first clients, he couldn’t help but smile.

They had it all planned out - he and the girls - both because they wanted to help him and because they wanted to make sure Lance would go talk to Shiro. Planning in advance helped take the edge of things, apparently. Either that or Nyma’s psychology degree was turning her into a much better liar.

Be as it may, the first half of the plan was for them to act “normal” until Lance could make his move, which they did - to some extent. Shiro asked Lance about the candy he’d sent and Lance couldn’t help but stutter his gratefulness, earning a curious raised brow from Shiro and a subtle roll of the eyes from Nyma. Lucky for him, Shiro didn’t press further, adhering to his daily routine as if nothing weird had ever happened.

Plaxum arrived at her usual time, giving Lance a thumbs up as soon as she saw Shiro sitting in the farthest table. And so the second half of the plan began, with the girls covering for Lance until he had come clean with the Castle’s costumer of the month. He took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself, took his peace offering in one hand and made a beeline to his target.

“Mind if I join you?” Lance said, placing a large Black Lion on Shiro’s table. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and prayed to all the saints he knew for his face not to do anything funny.

“Sorry, but I don’t-” Shiro started, the rest of the sentence getting caught inside his throat as soon as he looked up. “Lance?”

“That’s my name, yes,” Lance said, internally cringing for how harsh he sounded. This wasn’t going well. “May I?” He asked, gesturing to the free chairs. The man nodded, visibly puzzled, and Lance sat down in front of him. It took Lance about half a minute to gather his courage and speak again. “The coffee is for you, on the house,” he said, pushing the warm paper cup toward the other man. “Black Lion, no sugar, right?”

Shiro took the paper cup in his hand and had a sip, smiling lightly afterward. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Lance said, suddenly at a lack of words. He cleared his throat in search of his voice and spoke again. “Look, I know this seems kinda out of the blue but I’m here to tell you that I…” Lance hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and kept going. “I’m accepting your proposal. I wanna go out on a date with you.”

Shiro’s face after that was almost comical. His eyes went wide, blinking a few times as if processing Lance’s words. However, the flabbergasted look didn’t last long; he cleared his throat.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, voice even and expression almost neutral if it hadn’t been for his warm, gray eyes looking at Lance in awe.  

“What do you mean ‘ _this_ ’?” Lance asked, a bit taken aback.

“This,” Shiro repeated, gesturing to the space between them. “The whole going out with me thing.”

“I... still don’t follow,” Lance confessed.

Shiro placed the paper cup on the table again and looked Lance in the eye, he felt a shiver crossing through his spine.

“Look, Lance, I know you know I like you,” Shiro started, expression serious. “I made myself very clear the first time I came here. But you also need to know that I’m not being nice to you just to ‘wear you down’ or anything like that; I do it because I feel like it, because I think you’re an amazing human being that deserves to be treated nicely. That’s all there is,” he said, smiling fondly. “Which is why I don’t want you to feel like you owe me a date. I’m okay as it is, really.”

It took all of Lance’s will not to throw himself forward and give Shiro a big hug. What he had just said was easily one of the most beautiful things someone had said to Lance, let alone someone attracted to him. He could feel warmness radiating from the center of his chest and it was all Shiro’s doing. This man was something else entirely.

“I know you’re not wearing me down,” Lance said after a moment. “Though after all that ‘I’m nothing but patient’ crap you said to me, it’s actually good to have a confirmation.”

Shiro smiled at the teasing. “It wasn’t my brightest moment, was it?” He asked, looking embarrassed. It was mildly adorable.

“Don’t think so, no,” Lance confirmed, somewhat amused. Then he grew serious again. “Either way, I’m not doing this because I gave in or whatever. I honestly feel like going out with you, why is that so hard to believe?”

“Perhaps because I know you don’t like me back,” Shiro said, matter of factly.

“Who says I don’t like you back?” Lance retorted defiantly. Why was Shiro being so difficult?

Then Shiro straightened his back, cocking his head to the side and gaping a little, and Lance simply knew what was going on: Shiro didn’t know Lance liked him back. Of course he didn’t! Lance had made sure of concealing everything behind a mask of annoyance and neutrality. Though he hadn’t realized just how good of an actor he was.

Sure, Nyma and Plaxum had seen right through him, but they’d known him for a long time now, and they were also around him for several hours a week. They all knew each other too well. Shiro, on the other hand, didn’t stand a freaking chance. Lance wanted to bang his head against the table.

“So you… do?” Shiro asked after a few more seconds, voice way too small for someone so big.

“Of course I do!” Lance said, maybe a bit too loud. Some heads turned toward them, but he couldn’t care less, he was trying to make a point. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” he explained, back to his regular voice tone. “I thought about it and I realized I actually like you, or what I know of you anyways, and I’d like to give this whole dating thing a go. It can’t hurt anybody.”

To Lance’s surprise, Shiro held back a snicker. “Unless it goes really, really bad and Keith comes after me, correct?” He said, a smug smile playing in his full lips.

“Yeah, unless that happens,” Lance said in return, shrugging nonchalantly.

They looked at each other for a second before they both started giggling like a pair of little kids, heads definitely turning in their direction now. Not that Lance cared, to be honest, and by the looks of it, neither did Shiro. Yet another thing in his favor.

Once the giggles receded, Lance took a sharpie out of his apron’s pocket and wrote down his phone number in the nearest piece of napkin he found. Shiro had stopped laughing altogether, and Lance could feel his gaze on him, watching his every move. He made a show of writing his name under the number, drawing a little heart after the last “e”, then handed the napkin to Shiro.

“This is my number,” he stated as if the name and the sharpie heart weren’t enough proof. “You can text me or call me whenever, but mostly today, so I can save your number too. I’m free tomorrow afternoon if that’s okay with you. We can catch a movie or grab something to eat.” Lance waited about five seconds before speaking again, amused of just how lost Shiro appeared to be. “You’re supposed to say something now, big guy,” he prompted softly.

Shiro looked at Lance, then down at the napkin in his hand, and then to Lance again. “Oh, sure, yes,” he said at last. “Tomorrow afternoon is okay.”

“Sweet!” Lance said, smiling. “Then it’s a date.”

“A date,” Shiro repeated, smiling back at him, and if it wasn’t one of the cutest things Lance had seen the whole week.

In all honesty, he could have stayed there staring for a longer time, hadn’t he remembered where they were and what was he actually doing there. He cleared his throat and stood.

“I gotta get back to work now,” he said, smoothing the front of his apron just to have something to do with his hands. “Still on duty.”

“Yes, go ahead, sorry for taking your time,” Shiro said, and it somehow sounded apologetic. This man, really. “I’ll text you later.”

“You better,” Lance said, winking at him. “I’ll be waiting.”

He turned around to find Nyma and Plaxum looking right at him, which was a surprise to no one. They tried to busy themselves behind the counter and Lance huffed, shaking his head in amusement. He’d have to narrate his conversation with Shiro at some point, probably after the guy had left and the shift calmed down. But it was okay. The girls had helped him a lot and it was only fair for Lance to share the details.

Perhaps talking about it would help ease the knot growing slowly inside his belly, or mute the voice inside his head currently telling him it was still too soon to start dating. Though knot or no knot, voice or no voice, he’d taken a decision he intended to keep.

There was no turning back now. Only forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!~
> 
> OMG I've missed this story so so much!! I'm so sorry it took so long to update this little fella, RL was cray and I lost track of time. I'm here now, though, and I actually intend to finish it!
> 
> This was shorter than the others but I think (I hope) it was cute enough as to get us back on the New Rules ~~feels~~ track. If you're still with me, thank you so much! Please let me know what you think of this chapter, give me theories, opinions, screams; I'm all ears!!!
> 
> See y'all very very soon, I promise! In the meantime, go check my other stuff. I'm updating everything!! :D

**Author's Note:**

>  **Art for this fic:**  
>  \- Chapter 1: "[Blue Eyes](https://bit.ly/2OyBnZr)" by nevermoree-the-raven
> 
> \--  
> I’m **@theonemaye** on twitter and tumblr. Go talk to me about this ship, this fic, this show or whatever you wanna talk about!
> 
> Like what you see? How about a [coffee](http://ko-fi.com/theonemaye) ;)
> 
> \--  
>  **Update Nov. 2018:** Please read the series description.


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